


all your fumble words

by lazyweekendmornings



Series: ayfw verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Healing, Post-War, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2019-10-22 11:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyweekendmornings/pseuds/lazyweekendmornings
Summary: The war is over, and grief hangs heavy over victory.Slowly, Ginny and Harry must learn to pick themselves up and live again.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> well... i did it! i've been reading harry potter fic for years, and finally decided to try writing my own. go easy on me, this is my first HP fic! please let me know what you think/leave reviews and whatnot, and i'll do my best to update soon <3  
> (title from bombay bicycle club's 'my god')

The first thing Ginny notices in the morning is the quiet.

All her life, all around her, she’s been used to noise. Not the kind of noise that kept her awake back in Grimmauld Place in London, with the cars and the people and the crowds: those are city noises, as her mother puts it, and she isn’t used to that.

What she’s used to is the constant hum of people and magic. The Burrow is never fully quiet: even in the early morning, you can hear the chickens outside, and the sound of the dishes being washed in the sink, and the knitting needles in her mum’s rocking chair by the fireplace. And then there’s the matter of her brothers: they’re always shouting at each other from across the house – which she is all too happy to join in with – things like _have you seen my maroon socks_ and _which of you hid my Prefect badge, it isn’t funny_ and _hey, Percy, maybe your badge is hidden up your – sorry Mum!_ and the ghoul wailing in the attic and…

And Fred and George’s rooms, constantly emitting bangs and whirring noises. There’s always been the sound of people around her, of life being lived, of family.

Which is why, when Ginny wakes up and walks downstairs on the morning of the fourteenth day after the Battle, the fourteenth day back home, the first thing she notices is the quiet. The dishes are piled up in the sink, stationary. There’s no knitting on the rocking chair. Even the chickens are quiet. Fred and George’s room – George’s room, she corrects herself. George’s room is surrounded with a thick shroud of silence.

Her mother isn’t any better. She’s been up in her bedroom for the last week or so, ever since Fred’s funeral. Ginny hasn’t much felt up to conversation with anyone, either, so she understands the feeling. Everything has felt off, and the quiet only adds to it. She wants to scream, to break something, to do something to shatter the silence and make herself feel whole, normal again, but she knows that won’t help. She already tried it, the day of Fred’s funeral.

*

The day of Fred’s funeral was bright and sunny, as if to taunt Ginny. She sat next to Harry in the second row, screwing her face up against tears as she listened to an old wizard she remembered from Dumbledore’s funeral and Bill’s wedding talk about _bravery_ and _valour_ and _true Gryffindor spirit_. It didn’t feel real: if it wasn’t for the warmth Harry’s hand holding hers, she wouldn’t have even believed that this was happening. It reminded her of the summer after her first year, when she would have the same nightmare every single night: her family members dead in the Chamber, her holding the wand that murdered them, Tom Riddle’s laughing face, and the deep-rooted knowledge that it had been her who killed them.

This felt like that. She knew it wasn’t her fault that Fred was dead. It wasn’t fair, though. He was her older brother, and now she would have to live to be older than he ever got to be. He didn’t belong there, in the casket, surrounded by a grieving atmosphere he would have hated. He belonged in the sunshine, in the real world, telling her jokes and taking the piss about her and Harry, and mocking Ron.

The wizard finished speaking and waved his wand. Slowly, the grave was covered, and the words were engraved onto the tombstone under his murmured instructions. _Here lies Fred Weasley_.

It was the greatest effort of her life, keeping composed through the funeral. Later on, she would think about it, and would have no recollection of what happened. She was sure her dad spoke, at some point, and so did George, and maybe Percy, but she had no idea what any of them had said. Later on, once they were back home, she realised she had no memory of how they’d gotten there. Her mother squeezed her shoulders and let go, going to the kitchen, and that’s when Ginny seemed to snap back to reality. She was crying, she realised, and didn’t know for how long she had been, but that explained why her mother had been holding her. She could taste the tears, salty and burning on her cheeks, and the dull ache behind her eyes told her she had been crying for quite a while. Maybe she’d never stop.

She stormed her way up to her room and slammed the door shut behind her, shaking with sobs. “Fuck!” She shouted, and seized the books on her desk, throwing them to the floor as hard as she could. Her perfume bottle was next—it had been a birthday gift from Fred when she was thirteen years old, and she loved the flowery scent so much she had bought it every year since. She took vindictive pleasure in that, in throwing that to the ground and watching it shatter.

Five minutes later, when the door opened and her dad walked in, the room was absolutely destroyed, and Ginny was curled up in the corner of her bed, clutching her pillow like it was the only thing in the world left to anchor her. Her dad sat down on the edge of the bed, resolutely looking away.

Arthur waved his wand and the books returned to the desk, the bottle reassembled, and the room began to tidy itself. Another wave, and he produced a soft face cloth, which he handed to her. “Here,” he said, and his voice was gentler than Ginny had ever heard it. “Wipe your face, love.”

She sat up slowly, rubbing at her face angrily. She was grateful her father didn’t look at her. She couldn’t bear it when others saw her cry, especially her family, who already had a tendency to think her weaker than she was.

“Breaking things won’t help,” Arthur said. He still sounded gentle, but also tired. “I’ve tried that before. It never has helped. But then again, I’ve never had to bury my own son…” His voice broke.

Ginny moved without thinking, until she was sitting on the edge of the bed next to her dad. He wrapped his arm around her, she leaned his head on his shoulders, and they both didn’t talk for a few minutes. She had never seen her dad cry before.

“How’s George doing?” she asked, finally. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, distant and odd.

“Much as the rest of us are, I expect,” Arthur said. “Ron and Bill are with him. It will take him a while. It will take all of us a while, but we’ll be okay.”

“How do you know?” Ginny asked. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like anything would be okay every again.

Arthur looked at her then. “Because,” he said, “we have no other choice.”

*

She thinks about that conversation now. Her father’s right: they don’t have a choice but to move on with their lives, try to create a life in a world where Fred Weasley isn’t there anymore.

She doesn’t know how.

She doesn’t think anyone does. They’re trying. George has spent the last two nights at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur. Ginny wonders if that’s easier for him, with only one brother and sister-in-law fussing around him instead of everyone here. Ron’s been busy with Hermione. She doesn’t know if anyone else noticed, but they’re planning something. It’s almost déjà vu in a way, seeing the both of them with their heads together, planning in whispers as far away from subtle as possible. Arthur’s thrown himself into work, as has Percy. Charlie left back for Romania last night. And Harry…

He’s seemed off, as off as she feels. He hasn’t been part of Ron and Hermione’s planning sessions; Ginny doubts he even notices them. He’s been staying close to Ginny, mostly. They still haven’t talked, after the Battle, but his presence makes her feel better, and she suspects it’s the same for him, too. She hasn’t had the energy to initiate a conversation with him about their relationship. She’s barely had the energy for anything.

She can’t handle it anymore. It’s quiet and it doesn’t feel like home anymore, and she feels as if there’s something crawling under her skin all the time. She’s still in her pyjamas and slippers, but she doesn’t think twice when she walks straight out of the house.

The broom shed looks the same as it always does. Ginny hesitates when she sees the collection of brooms. She chooses an old Cleansweep, and retrieves it, and then she’s in the air, and doesn’t have to think about anything except the wind in her hair and the cold morning air whipping at her exposed face.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been flying, but the sun’s high in the sky when she finally touches back down, and her stomach is acidic from hunger. Squinting against the sun, she dismounts from her broom and turns towards the shed when she realises she isn’t alone.

Sitting under a tree in the orchard is none other than Harry himself. He meets her eyes and offers her a sheepish wave. Slowly, she walks over to him. His hair is rumpled and even messier than usual. “Hi,” she says.

“Brought you breakfast,” Harry says. It’s only then that Ginny sees the little basket next to him.

“I didn’t know Mum was up and about yet,” she says. She feels a small jolt of hope in her chest at the idea that her mum may be up and about, bustling around the noise.

“Oh, er…” Harry shifts a little, and runs his hand through his hair. “She didn’t—I mean, I made it. I thought maybe you’d be hungry. I saw you flying and…” he trails off, clearly self-conscious.

Ginny thinks of Harry, seeing her from the kitchen window and deciding to bring breakfast out to her, even packing it up nearly as neatly as her mum usually does, and feels oddly close to tears.

“I am hungry,” she finally says. She sits down next to him and sets the broom down. She realises, with a jolt, that the broom she chose is Fred’s old one. She turns to look at the basket, so she won’t have to dwell on that anymore. Harry’s brought her what looks like a selection of sandwiches, and even a little cup of tea charmed to stay warm. Her hands are numb, and she reaches for the tea gratefully. “Thank you,” she says, very softly.

Harry hesitates for a moment, and then seems to reach some sort of inner conclusion. He takes out a sandwich for himself and takes a bite from it. “I forgot how well you flew,” he told her. His voice sounds oddly thick, too. “If—if things had been different, I reckon you would’ve been Quidditch Captain last year.”

For the first time in days, possibly weeks, Ginny smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, decisive.

“Thank you,” she says again. Harry seems to be making an effort, and she wants to, too. “They cancelled Quidditch last year,” she tells him. She’s done her best not to talk about the last year, about how awful Hogwarts was, but it’s different with Harry. “They claimed it was for safety, but I think it was so that the Dementors could have free reign. They took over the Quidditch pitch…” She shudders as she thinks about the sight of her favourite place at school overtaken by… those things.

Harry doesn’t say anything, but the hand that isn’t holding the sandwich clenches up into a tight fist.

“It didn’t feel like Hogwarts,” Ginny continues. “Nothing felt the same. And I’d think of you, all the time. You, and Ron and Hermione, and what you three could be doing, on the run from the Death Eaters and Ministry and Merlin knows who else…”

“I’d think of you, too,” Harry says. He’s fiddling with his sandwich more than eating it. “I… I used to watch your dot. On the Marauder’s Map. All the time. And when I… when I was in the Forest, with Riddle that last time… you were the last thing I thought of. Before the Killing Curse hit me.”

Ginny looks up at Harry. His eyes are suspiciously bright. “So… you really did die, then?” she whispers. She feels like her heart is in her throat.

“I think so,” Harry admits. Ginny knows he hasn’t said this to anyone. “But I came back.”

Ginny takes a moment to process this. She knows there are so many follow-up questions, not least of which is the matter of Harry’s actual death, but all she can focus on is his green eyes, staring intently at her in the quiet way Harry has that’s always managed to get to her.

“I’ve missed you,” Harry continues. He seems determined to do this, to say everything he’s come out here to say. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, and the timing is terrible, but—”

Ginny interrupts him. “Do you remember what I said, on your birthday?” she asks him quietly. When he furrows his eyebrows in confusion, she puts down her cup of tea and reaches out to take his hand. “Did you meet any Veela when you were gone?” she whispers.

“Definitely not,” Harry says. He gives Ginny’s hand a little squeeze.

She leans in and kisses him then, without really needing to think about it. He feels the same as he always has and kissing him is a warm burst of familiarity in a world that no longer feels the same.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispers. The words are muffled against Harry’s lips, but she feels it when he smiles.

She knows it will take a while until her family’s whole again, if that happens at all. She knows that they’ll have to find a way to work through the grief, to keep going, to live in a world that Fred, Remus, Tonks, so many of their friends died for.

Things are far from healed. But here in the orchard, kissing the boy she’s loved for years now, it’s easy to pretend that they are.

 


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an altercation, an unexpected confession, and a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couldn't get this story out of my mind, so here's another chapter! i said this already, but i would really, really appreciate feedback in any form. i'm very insecure about writing hp fic! let me know if you like it, or if there's something you'd like me to add in the next chapter <3 
> 
> hope you like it (new chapter up within a week or two, hopefully)

“You should go see Teddy,” Ginny says. She’s leaning against him, with her head pillowed on his shoulder, and finishing off the last of the breakfast he’d brought her.

It’s hard to think straight or to focus on anything, after how she’d kissed him, but that manages to get Harry’s attention. He sits up a bit straighter, and looks at her. They’re sitting down under the tree, sheltered from the sun and from the sight of anyone in the Burrow who might look out of their windows. They’d been sitting in silence, and Harry had been content to feel the warm weight of Ginny against him as she ate. He still can’t believe it. He hadn’t let himself hope, over the past year, hadn’t let himself think about a future beyond Voldemort.

It doesn’t feel fair, that he survived and so many others didn’t. No matter how many times Ron and Hermione tell him not to, he can’t help feeling guilty over their deaths. He had honestly thought he wouldn’t make it this far. It’s bittersweet, because he feels luckier than he can articulate, to have Ginny next to him, but everything, even this, is a reminder of what he’s lost, what all of them have.

He looks down at her now. Her eyes are closed, and the sun is glinting off her hair. “Yeah?” he says. He hadn’t been expecting her to say something like that.

“Yeah,” she says. She sits up, turns to face him. “You should. Have you, since the war?”

“Come to think of it,” Harry says slowly, “I haven’t seen him at all. Not since… the funeral.” He hadn’t been paying much attention during Remus and Tonks’ funeral, thoughts too preoccupied by grief and guilt and sorrow, but he did remember Andromeda sitting in the front row, back ramrod-straight and holding a baby with turquoise hair in her arms. After the funeral had finished, he’d gone up to her to try and say something, but then Teddy had started crying and she had excused herself to go back home, mumbling something about putting him down for a nap.

Teddy. His godson. The last link he had to Lupin and, by extension, his parents.

“You should,” Ginny says. “Or write to Mrs Tonks, at any rate. She’s all alone with him, and… well, you’ve seen how Mum is. It’s probably much worse for Andromeda. She’s lost her husband and… she only had one daughter.” Ginny’s voice doesn’t break, not exactly, but it cracks. She had been close to Tonks, Harry knows.

Harry doesn’t know what to say. He suddenly feels guilty. Teddy’s his godson, and apart from Andromeda, he’s all the family Teddy has now. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t reached out Andromeda, why he hasn’t attempted to speak to her. He remembers how nice it had been when Sirius wrote to him, when he felt a little less alone then. It occurs to him then that Teddy, like him, is an orphan. Voldemort, this war, it’s taken so much from him, from all of them, and now another young boy has to grow up without knowing his parents. Doesn’t he owe it to Teddy, to himself, to make sure Teddy’s surrounded by whatever family he has? He doesn’t know why he hasn’t done anything about it yet.

Some of his guilt must show on his face, because Ginny reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’ve been busy,” she says. “It’s okay. It’s barely been a couple of weeks. But you should do it now.”

Harry doesn’t know how she knew exactly what was going through his mind. It’s uncanny how she does that. “Will you come with me?” he finally says, once the lump in his throat has gone down and he can speak clearly.

“Yeah, of course, if you want me to,” Ginny says easily.

Harry nods. “I’ll write to her,” he promises.

*

He does.

That evening, Ron and Hermione are playing chess in the living room, and Ginny’s outside again. She spends more time in the orchard than at home these days; Harry can’t really blame her.

He’s watching the game absentmindedly when he remembers his conversation with Ginny. He waves his wand, catching the parchment and Self-Inking Quill that come zooming towards him.

“Knight to E5,” Ron says ten minutes later, and turns to look at Harry, who’s sitting on the floor with the letter propped up on the table in front of him. “Who are you writing to?” he asks Harry curiously.

“Mrs Tonks,” Harry answers. He feels self-conscious enough as it is, and it only grows worse when he feels both Ron and Hermione’s gazes on him. All he’s written in the last ten minutes is _Dear Mrs Tonks_ , and he has no idea what to write next.

“Oh, that’s right, you—” Hermione cuts herself off with a small sigh when she notices that Ron’s knight has just gotten rid of her bishop. “—you should do that, that’s a good idea,” she continues, and nudges one of her pawns forward.

“You should tell her to come over for dinner or something,” Ron puts in. “Mum would probably like the company. I mean, if she feels better by then.”

“I don’t know if Mrs Tonks will be up to it,” Hermione says. “I mean, she’s been through a lot, hasn’t she? First Ted, and now her daughter…”

“We’ve all been through a lot, I reckon,” Ron says.

“Yes, but Mrs Tonks doesn’t have any family except for Teddy anymore, does she? I imagine that’s hard. I mean, to lose one family member’s hard enough…” Hermione cuts herself off rather abruptly, and Harry wonders why, but then he looks at the way Ron’s face has gone pale and he understands. “Oh, Ron, I’m sorry,” she whispers, looking alarmingly close to tears. “I didn’t mean…”

“No, I know,” Ron says, but his face has fallen. Harry knows that he’s thinking about what all of them are thinking about. The loss of Fred hangs heavy in the house all the time, but its moments like these when Harry feels it the most keenly. Ron takes a deep breath, and seems to compose himself before he looks back at Harry. “Tell her we’re all here for her. Not like we’re doing much right now, anyway.” He gives Hermione an oddly furtive look before moving his rook forward.

It’s twenty minutes later that Harry’s finally finished his letter. “Can I borrow Pigwidgeon?” He asks Ron. When Ron nods distractedly, he stands up. Before he can go find the owl, he’s distracted by Ginny walking in, wet from the rain.

“Checkmate,” Ron says, and then, “oh, hi, Ginny. You’re wet.”

“I noticed, thank you,” Ginny says.

“Here,” Hermione says. She takes her wand and waves it in Ginny’s direction.

“Thanks, Hermione,” says a newly dry Ginny. She walks to Harry and gives him a smile, one he can’t help but return. “Did you finally write it, then?” she says.

“I did, yeah,” Harry says.

“Good,” Ginny says. “If you hadn’t by tomorrow, I would’ve probably just done it for you and forged your signature.”

Harry laughs. Somehow, he doesn’t doubt that.

“I’m going to go shower,” Ginny says. She goes on her tiptoes and kisses Harry, lingering just a moment too long for it to be strictly decent, and then makes her way upstairs.

Harry, as is always the case when Ginny kisses him, needs a moment to compose himself. When he looks back at Ron and Hermione, he’s surprised to see the way Ron’s ears have gone red, and then he remembers that Ron doesn’t know anything that transpired with him and Ginny this morning.

“What was that?” he asks.

Harry makes a quick decision to downplay it as much as is possible. “What was what?”

It seems to make things worse. “I don’t want you messing around with her,” Ron says.

“I’m not,” Harry says. “We’re not messing around.”

“What is this, then? This isn’t the time to try anything with her, you don’t know how upset she’s been after Fred—”

Harry can’t take any more of this. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice is calm, but even he can hear the edge to it. “You two, you’re both the ones who don’t know anything.”

Ron’s chest seems to be swelling in anger. “What are you talking about?” He demands.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you both sneaking around,” Harry snaps. “Planning who knows what, like you’ve been paying any attention to Ginny—”

“Harry, we’re not planning—” Hermione tries to interject.

“Don’t lie,” Harry says, before she can say anything. “Just because I haven’t said anything doesn’t mean I didn’t notice, alright? We’ve all been upset after everything, after—after Fred and everyone –but Ginny and I talked and—”

“I don’t want you messing her up!” Ron says. The mention of Fred seems to have angered him further.

“I’m not!” Harry says, just as loudly as Ron.

They both look at each other for a moment, and then Ron stands up and storms upstairs. Even from down here, Harry can hear the door slam.

“Harry,” Hermione whispers, but Harry doesn’t want to hear any of it, doesn’t want to see the tears in her eyes or be made to feel guilty over his and Ron’s argument.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces, even though none of them have eaten dinner, and makes his way back up to Bill and Charlie’s room, where he’s been sleeping for the last two weeks.

*

They don’t talk about it the next morning.

Mrs Weasley’s downstairs when Harry comes down, for the first time since Fred’s funeral. Her eyes are red-rimmed and she looks pale, but she gives him a tired smile when he comes in and pulls him in for a hug.

Everyone seems happy to see Mrs Weasley in the kitchen, but there’s palpable tension in the air once they’ve settled down at the breakfast table. Harry, sandwiched in between Hermione and Ginny, makes eye contact with Ron every so often, but neither of them say anything about their argument.

It’s only halfway through the meal, when Mr Weasley’s left to go meet Kingsley in the Ministry and Mrs Weasley excuses herself to go back to her room, that they’re forced to talk about it, and only because they have no other choice.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Ginny says.

“What do you mean?” mumbles Ron.

“You and Harry. You’ve been glaring at each other and sulking through breakfast,” Ginny says impatiently. Harry’s happy that she’s starting to recover herself, but he forgot just how keenly Ginny can get to the heart of the matter without attempting to tread on any sort of eggshells.

Hermione surprises him by giggling. “They have been sulking, haven’t they?”

“Yeah, it’s like an old married couple. Maybe you both should try kissing each other goodnight, maybe that will help,” Ginny says.

“Nah, he’s not my type,” Ron says. He meets Harry’s eye, and they both suddenly smile, though it fades quickly.

“There, the tension’s broken, anyway. Now will you tell us what the matter is?” Ginny demands.

Neither of them say anything. Finally, Hermione rolls her eyes. “Ron’s upset that you and Harry seem to have, er. Sorted out your differences,” she tells Ginny.

“Oh,” says Ginny, and then, “I should have guessed.”

“I don’t want him taking advantage of you,” Ron says.

Harry wants to laugh at the idea of anyone taking advantage of Ginny. He has no doubt that she would fight them off; he feels a burst of pride in his chest just thinking about it.

Ginny seems to agree with him, if the scoff she lets out is any indication.

“Ron,” Hermione says softly, “I really think we should give them a chance to explain—”

“Explain?” Ginny says. “I wasn’t aware we were doing anything wrong. We broke up because of Voldemort. He’s gone now, isn’t he? So I don’t see what the issue is.”

“The issue,” Ron says, “is that you’re not in any right mind to start – whatever it is that this is—because with Fred, it’s too soon—”

“Shut up,” Ginny says. Her eyes have lost their amused look, and her voice is icy. “Shut up, Ron, do you really think I’m not in my right mind?”

“No, I just meant—” Ron seems to realise he’s hit a nerve.

“Besides, what about you and Hermione?” Ginny demands. “I suppose you’re in the right mind to decide to go snogging her now, or doing even more, if the way she sneaks out of my bedroom in the night is any indication, and I can’t decide to date Harry?”

Harry winces at the visual of Hermione and Ron snogging.

“You’re being a hypocrite,” Ginny continues, “and I’m sick of you, and Mum, and everyone, assuming I’m too young to know what I want! I’m turning seventeen in a few months, I’ll be of age, and I’ve loved Harry for ages now—” she cuts herself off suddenly, her cheeks flaming red.

Harry feels like there’s a buzzing in his ears, like he’s been hit with a hundred _Muffliato_ s. He looks at Ginny, dumbfounded. Even Ron seems too shocked to say anything. Hermione lets out a sound that seems to be a combination of a gasp and a muffled sob.

“Well,” says someone, sounding close to laughter, “at least I didn’t miss my baby sister declaring her love for the Chosen One.”

The four of them turn around to the source of the sound. There, brushing soot off his robes and looking like he hasn’t slept in days, having just stepped out of the fireplace and entered the Burrow for the first time since the funeral of Fred, stands George Weasley, surveying them with an amused smile.

Ginny stands up and runs to George, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

“Hey, sis,” George says, “you’re really giving Mum a run for her money with the screaming there.” He looks over the top of Ginny’s head at Ron. Ron goes to join the hug, all animosity seemingly forgotten.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny says, sounding happier than she has in a while.

George hesitates. Ron and Ginny step back from the hug, but Ginny stays close to his side.

“It’s Fred,” George finally says. “Kingsley and Dad are coming here with Bill and Fleur now, they’ll be here within the hour. Kingsley’s finished handling the legal aspects. It’s time to read the will.”

 

 


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some information comes to light, a confession is made, and a meeting is arranged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter! As always, let me know what you think. Also, how do we feel about past tense (as in this chapter) v/s present tense (as the earlier two chapters have been)? There'll be a new chapter up within a week or so <3

Ginny felt a little numb at the moment, only warmed up by the feeling of Ron’s arm around her. She would normally be annoyed at this display – Ron was clearly feeling overprotective ever since the argument with Harry – but it was reassuring right now, and the physical contact reminded her to stay grounded in where she was right now. She was sitting on the sofa in the living room of the Burrow in between Ron and George. Harry and Hermione were in the corners next to them, half on the sofa and half on the arm of it; in front of them, scattered in various chairs dragged in from the kitchen, were Kingsley and the rest of her family, except for Charlie.

“You’re sure about this?” said Hermione. She was the only one who seemed calm, but Ginny suspected, from how tightly crossed her arms were, that it was a façade.

“Yes. I do have some experience in Magical Law Enforcement,” said Kingsley, not unkindly. “Fred’s will is a completely binding document, legally speaking.”

“I told you it would be,” muttered George. “We made them together.”

“When?” asked Ginny’s mum. This was the first time she had spoken up since Kingsley and the others had arrived.

“In seventh year. After we left school,” George said. “Tonks and Bill were our witnesses. We hired a lawyer, got all the formalities out of the way after an Order meeting. We thought it was a right laugh back then, hiding the actual wills from each other, since we… we assumed we wouldn’t need them for ages.” He let out a strangled laugh. Ginny’s throat felt tight, and she clenched her hands into fists, focusing on the feeling of her fingernails digging in to her palms so she wouldn’t give in to the flood of tears threatening to burst forth.

“Oh, Georgie…” Mum whispered. Ginny looked up for a brief second. Her mother wasn’t even attempting to hide the tears running down her cheeks. As Ginny watched, her dad wrapped an arm around her. He looked dangerously close to tears himself.

Ginny cleared her throat. “So. This is… legitimate?”

“It is,” Kingsley confirmed. He met her eyes, and suddenly Ginny felt reassured, like she was speaking to the man who had eaten dinner with them so many times and laughed at terrible jokes with her dad, and not the Interim Minister for Magic. “I’ve checked it myself. It’s very legitimate. Fred owned half of the shop, and he’s divided up his shares equally between George, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and you.”

“But why us?” Harry said. Ginny turned to look at him, and suddenly wished she was sitting next to him, and could hold his hand to ground herself, but Ron had seated himself firmly in between them and didn’t show any signs of moving anytime soon.

“What do you mean?” Kingsley said.

Harry looked impatient. “I get why he’d leave it to George, and Ron and Ginny.” He looked at her as he said her name. “But I don’t really get why he would leave it to me and Hermione instead of, I dunno, Bill or Charlie or Percy or something…”

George rolled his eyes. “Bill and Charlie are older than us, Fred wouldn’t have thought they needed anything, they both have good jobs. Percy was going through his prat phase when we wrote it, obviously. You were in school when we wrote these wills, and that Umbridge bi—that Umbridge woman,” he corrected himself quickly, “was giving all of you hell.” He shrugged. It seemed obvious to him, but Ginny didn’t quite understand it fully.

“Oh,” Ron said, a look of dawning comprehension on his face. “You’re saying he didn’t know if we’d get jobs?”

“With the way the Ministry was behaving,” Bill said slowly, flashing Kingsley a half-apologetic look, “it really didn’t seem likely at the time that any of you would fare well after Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, and you’re all family, innit. My will’s the same. We never bothered writing a new one later,” George said, and stood up.

Hermione sniffled, no doubt in response to George putting Harry and her in the category of family.

“Anyway,” George said. “If that’s all, I should be going…”

“Actually, there was one other thing,” Kingsley said. He looked uncomfortable, and Ginny recognised the shift in his tone, from family friend to Ministry official.

George sat back down next to Ginny. “Okay, what is it?”

“Now that I’ve managed to get Law Enforcement in relative order,” Kingsley said, “I think we can begin the Death Eater and Death Eater sympathiser trials soon. And everyone in this family will almost definitely be called as witnesses in most cases. Especially you four,” he said, indicating Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

Ginny’s stomach sank.

“Why her?” Ron asked. “I thought it’d mainly be us.”

“Yes, but the trials of Amycus and Alecto Carrow are scheduled soon. And as Ginny suffered the most under their regime, along with perhaps Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, her testimony is crucial,” Kingsley said.

Ginny stifled a groan. If only Kingsley hadn’t said that.

“What?” Bill said, looking sharply at Ginny. “You never said it was that bad.”

“Death Eaters were running the school and I’m a blood traitor. How did you think it would be?” Ginny said dully.

“Yes, but when you say  _ suffered _ —” Ron started to say.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say—” Mum said at the same time.

“It’s fine,” Ginny said. “Really, it’s fine. I’ll testify, Kingsley. Anything to get those sick people behind bars.”

Kingsley nodded gratefully. “Because of the trials, none of you can leave the country for the next few weeks, until it’s over,” he said. “Consider it a favour. I need all of your help.” For some reason, he gave Hermione a pointed look.

“Of course, Kingsley,” Harry said, and his voice seemed even more quiet compared to Bill, Ron, and Mum’s tones.

Kingsley stood up, brushing the crumbs from the biscuits he’d eaten with his tea off his deep purple robes. “Alright. Well, I need to be getting back to the Ministry. I’ll be in touch with all of you soon, as soon as I know more about the trials. Molly, Arthur, can I have a quick word before I leave?”

Ginny’s dad nodded, and the three of them walked to the kitchen. Hermione sniffled again, and it seemed like Ron couldn’t stand it anymore. He stood up and moved to sit down next to her, wrapping his arm around her. George went to talk to Bill and Fleur, leaving the four of them on the sofa.

Ginny moved a little closer to Harry’s side, reaching out and taking his hand.

“Was it really that bad at Hogwarts?” Harry asked her quietly. If the question had come from anyone else, especially one of her older brothers, Ginny would’ve lost her temper, but the way Harry asked her was different.

She looked up at him. He squeezed her hand, but waited for her to talk. “We probably have a lot to catch each other up on,” she finally said. “A lot happened this year.” She didn’t want to talk about at all, if she was being honest, but she especially didn’t want to talk about it here and now.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I suppose it did.”

*

Harry cornered her an hour or so later. Kingsley had left to go back to the Ministry, and Mum had convinced George and Bill and Fleur to stay for dinner. They were helping her cook, and Ron and Hermione had snuck away upstairs to Ron’s bedroom. Ginny didn’t really want to dwell much on what they were doing, but she found it awfully hypocritical that Ron, despite his overreaction to Harry and her relationship, had no ethical qualms to maintaining one of his own.

She had been making her way up to her own bedroom, lost in thought, when Harry appeared in front of her, seemingly out of nowhere. “Oh, hi,” she said. Her tense shoulders relaxed a little, and she took his hand, pulling him into her bedroom with her.

“Hi,” he echoed, and looked around her room. Ginny thought suddenly of the afternoon of his seventeenth birthday, and was very grateful Harry didn’t attempt to talk about the view from her window.

She felt suddenly self-conscious about the pile of clothes on her desk she was yet to put away in her wardrobe, and the general clutter around the room. Harry didn’t seem to mind, though, didn’t even look at anything in her room apart from her. “Andromeda wrote back,” he told her.

“Oh, she did? That’s great,” Ginny said. She’d been worried he would have wanted to discuss the last year, the events at Hogwarts, what he’d been up to over the year, and – if she was being honest – she didn’t feel like she had the capacity to handle any of that today, especially after hearing Kingsley read aloud Fred’s will. The idea of Teddy – a small baby, who was too young to know any of the things he’d lost – managed to cheer her up a little.

“Do you want to see it?” Harry asked, taking out a tightly furled scroll of parchment. Maybe he knew that it would cheer her up, or maybe he needed this as much as she did.

She took the parchment, opening it up to read the letter.

_ Dear Harry, _

_ Thank you for your letter. Of course I remember Nymphadora and Remus choosing you as the godfather to Teddy. It was Remus’s belief that Teddy would be safe with you, should anything occur to them. Given recent events, I am inclined to agree with him. _

_ It is very kind of you to offer to come and spend some time with him. Why don’t you come over this Friday? I’m enclosing my address to this, feel free to come any time after lunch. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Andromeda Tonks. _

_ PS: Now that we’re family, you must stop with the ‘Mrs Tonks’ nonsense. Call me Andy, if Andromeda isn’t to your taste. _

Ginny smiled when she got to the postscript. “She never struck me as much of an  _ Andy _ . Do you think the rest of us could get away with calling her that?”

“I think you probably could,” Harry said.

When Ginny looked at him to hand him the letter back, she was surprised to see how teary he looked. “What is it?” she said, attempting to be as gentle as she could. Gentleness did not come very easily to her, but she would do her best with Harry; she had seen how upset he got with raised voices and people fighting around him—a product, she supposed, of the Muggle tossers who raised him.

“It’s just…” Harry seemed to hesitate for a few moments before everything came bursting forth all at once, “she called me  _ family _ . George did earlier, too. I’ve never had a family before. And now Teddy’s going to grow up and not know who his family is, what his parents did for them, everything they sacrificed, and all he has is Mrs Tonks – Andy, I mean – and me—”

“Shut up,” Ginny interrupted. She stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking up at him. “You’ve been family to us for ages now, probably since you first sat with Ron in the Hogwarts Express. And Teddy has more than Andy and you. He has us, too.”

Harry slowly nodded. Ginny reached up a hand and wiped under his eyes. She noticed he still looked upset, and she couldn’t stifle the sigh that left her. “Look. Just talk to Ron. It’s going to be fine, you both will make things alright soon enough, once he gets his head out his—”

“It’s not that,” Harry said. It was his turn to interrupt her now, it seemed. “Earlier, with Ron, you said… you said you—” he trailed off.

“Oh.” Ginny said slowly. It was sinking in now, what she had admitted to him earlier. She didn’t want to betray how embarrassed she felt by the confession, by the way she’d blurted it out in front of everyone, only some hours after they reconciled at all. Instead, she squared her shoulders and met Harry’s gaze dead-on. “Yeah. I said I love you. And I meant it. I didn’t mean to say it, not so soon, but… it’s the truth. I think I’ve felt like this since fifth year.”

Harry looked completely floored. Not for the first time, Ginny wondered if anyone had ever told him they loved him before. She doubted it. “I—” he stammered. “I, er—I feel the same way. Reckon I have for a while, too.”

Some part of Ginny, some insecure small part of her that had taken over completely in her first year and then been shoved down to a corner that she tried to ignore, felt reassured that he felt the same way. “Good. Would’ve been very embarrassing for me if you hadn’t,” she said.

Harry let out a watery chuckle. “Will you come with me?” he asked her, very softly. He lifted a hand, tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Ginny felt inexplicably like crying at the tenderness of the gesture.

“Come with you where?” she asked, just as soft as him.

“To meet Teddy. I want you there,” he admitted.

Despite her best efforts, a tear slipped forth and slid down Ginny’s cheek. She wiped it hastily. She knew the significance of this, of Harry asking her to come with him to meet his godson, his family. “Of course,” she said. She didn’t even have to think about it.

“Thank you,” he said. She pulled him in to kiss him, too teary to even attempt any more conversation. “I love you,” he whispered, against her lips, barely louder than a breath. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close, keeping her secure.

She closed her eyes. “I love you, too,” she whispered.


	4. iv.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reconciliation, a meeting, and a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i can't believe i've hit 10k words! i also feel like after three chapters of Feelings and Sadness (which, don't get me wrong, is my absolute JAM), i might finally be headed somewhere specific plot-wise. i hope you like the chapter! (Side note: i know i wrote it, but i am excessively glad that i don't have to write ron and harry being angry with each other anymore <3 the bromance lives on!)  
> hope you enjoy the latest chapter and (as always), let me know if you liked it!

When Harry walked into the kitchen on Friday morning and saw Mrs Weasley bustling around with the sort of manic energy he associated with days spent cleaning out Grimmauld Place, he couldn’t help the burst of relief he felt bloom in his chest. After the first few weeks, with Mrs Weasley spending most of her time up in her room, a ghost of her former self, the sight of her downstairs, greeting him with a warm smile, was an encouraging one.

It was more than just being glad she was feeling better, though. Harry was glad the kitchen wasn’t empty. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, having awful nightmares of little Teddy being harmed in some way because of his negligence, of Remus looking at him with disappointment and telling him what a terrible godfather he was, of Tonks telling him  _ you’re no better than the Dursleys _ .

“Morning,” he mumbled and sat down at the table.

Molly turned to look at him and waved her wand. A teapot and a cup of tea landed in front of him, and he watched silently as a cup of tea poured itself out.

“Thanks,” he said. He was surprised to see that his hands were shaking when he lifted the cup up and took a long sip of it. The tea burnt the roof of his mouth, but he swallowed it anyway.

“Are you alright, dear?” Molly asked him. She came to the table with her own cup of tea and sat down next to him.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, automatically.

“You should never believe him when he says that, Mum,” said someone else. Harry looked up. Ginny had just walked into the kitchen and was giving him an amused smile.

“Hi,” Harry said. He put his cup down very carefully. Molly patted his shoulder; Harry didn’t want to admit it, but that did serve to comfort him.

“Hi, yourself,” Ginny said. “You nervous about seeing Teddy today?”

Harry shrugged again, but he knew there was no point trying to hide anything from Ginny. The way she was looking at him now, brown eyes narrowed somewhat, reminded him uncomfortably of the way Dumbledore had of looking at him as if knowing every thought in his mind.

“Oh, you’re going to see Teddy?” Molly’s face lit up at the mention of Teddy. “You should bring him and Andromeda over. I’d love to have her over for tea, and it’s been so long since we’ve had a little one in the house.”

“I don’t know if she’s up to that yet, Mum,” Ginny pointed out. She sat down at the table and leaned over, grabbing Harry’s cup and sipping his tea.

“Ginny,” Molly scolded.

“Anyways,” Ginny continued, ignoring Molly’s reprimand, “I’ll invite her over when we go later.”

Molly’s frown faded to a more thoughtful expression, and she looked from Ginny to Harry. “So you’re going as well, are you?”

“Yeah,” Ginny said. She seemed unaffected, but Harry saw her shoulders stiffen slightly. This was, he supposed, her way of hinting to Molly at their relationship. He hoped she wouldn’t react too badly to it – but then again, he mused to himself, nothing could be as bad as Ron’s reaction.

“I see,” Molly said. She looked for a moment as though she wanted to say something else, but then looked at Harry and seemed to reconsider. “And you’re sure it’s safe?” she asked Ginny. “You are underage after all.”

Ginny snorted with laughter. “Mum, I’m going with the saviour of the wizarding world to see a baby. There couldn’t be a safer activity.”

“Oh, alright then, but you can’t blame me for worrying,” Molly said, but she was smiling a little. “Arthur’s been saying there are still some Death Eaters they haven’t apprehended yet.”

Harry had been content to sit back and listen to Ginny and Molly speak, but he sat up at that. “There are? Kingsley didn’t mention—”

“Well, he probably thinks you’ve done enough. You’ve dealt with Riddle, they can handle a couple Death Eaters,” Ginny told Harry, and took his hand.

“She’s right, dear. If anyone deserves some time off, it’s you,” Molly said.

Harry nodded, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty. It wasn’t just the guilt; restlessness was beginning to awaken in him, and the idea of Death Eaters being loose made him want to stand up, grab his wand and go out looking for them. It wasn’t that he had forgotten about it the last few weeks, but grief had taken over him and had brought with him a kind of numbness to everything going on around him.

“I don’t know,” he finally said.

“There are other things you can do instead of going and putting yourself in danger all over again,” Molly said. Harry felt darkly amused; it seemed that despite being of age and having saved the wizarding world, Molly still viewed him as a child. “Visiting your godson, for one.”

Harry supposed she had a point.

“Come on,” Ginny said, getting to her feet, “there’s time for an early morning fly before breakfast.” Still holding on to his hand, she stood up and tugged him to his feet with surprising strength. Harry just had time to grab his wand before he was being pulled outside to the orchard.

*

After spending an hour outside with Ginny – most of which was spent playing Quidditch – Harry had to admit that everything felt less daunting. He was starting to understand why she did this almost every day.

“Managed to cheer you up, didn’t it?” Ginny grinned at him as they walked back.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “You did.”

“I knew it. Quidditch always helps.”

Harry was tempted to say it was less about Quidditch and more about Ginny herself but luckily, before he could, they were intercepted by Ron, who was waiting by the back door of the house.

Harry moved his arm from where it’d been wrapped around Ginny’s waist, but Ginny merely rolled her eyes. “I’m going inside. You both have five minutes to kiss and make up, or I’m sending Hermione out,” she warned and walked inside, closing the door firmly behind her.

“Er,” Ron said, and then, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Harry echoed, a little confused.

“I wanted to have a word,” Ron said. He looked more uncomfortable the more he spoke.

“Yeah?” Harry said, and couldn’t resist adding, “did you want to yell at me about Ginny again?”

“No,” Ron said, and the tips of his ears went red. “I mean—no, I didn’t—”

Harry could recognise the signs of an apologetic Ron when he saw them and he sat down on the grass, waiting. After a moment, Ron joined him.

“You were right,” he said after a moment. Harry turned to look at Ron, raising his eyebrows. That had been the last thing he expected Ron to say. “About Hermione. We were planning something.”

“Oh.” Harry remembered the way he’d snapped at Ron about it. “Right.”

“She wants to go to Australia,” Ron said suddenly. “To track down her parents. She already wrote to Kingsley about it, she thought he could help with the Portkeys and – something about a passed-port or something if she wants to travel the Muggle way. He doesn’t want us to go yet, not until the trials are over. He’s sent some Aurors there, Proudfoot and someone else, they’re looking for them now.”

Harry didn’t know why Ron was telling him all this. “Us?” he repeated.

“Yeah. I offered to go with her. I thought – well, I mean, they say it’s safe now, but there are still some Death Eaters around, aren’t they?” Ron said defensively, even though Harry hadn’t attacked him.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I heard your mum mention—do you think Kingsley’ll catch them soon?”

“I don’t know,” Ron admitted. “I mean, he’s probably busy with the Ministry and whatnot, and—… I’ve gotten used to not trusting those lot. I know things are different now, but…”

“I know,” Harry said, because he understood exactly what Ron was trying to say. “It’s weird that we’re not doing anything about it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded. “Exactly. Anyway, I didn’t just offer to go with Hermione for safety… I mean, she’s probably far better at keeping herself safe than either of us,” he pointed out with a sudden, proud smile, “but… the two of us… we’re both… I mean…”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re together?” Harry asked, befuddled. “I know. I was there when you got together, remember? It was the middle of the war, in the Room of Requirement… got that image burnt into my brains now, I reckon.”

Ron laughed, but the tips of his ears went red. “Right, yeah. Well, I meant… I wouldn’t have liked it if you said those things to me about me and Hermione. About not being in the right state of mind, or… I reckon I owe you an apology,” he mumbled, focusing his attention on the grass beneath them.

“Yeah, I reckon you do,” Harry agreed. “Look. I’m not messing her around. I don’t think anyone’s capable of messing her around at all,” he couldn’t resist adding.

“Yeah,” Ron mumbled. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a prat about it. If you want to be with her and she… and she wants to be with you, then it’s fine. It’s your decision. Not mine. When she said she—I mean. I didn’t know how serious it was, the way she feels about you…”

Harry smiled suddenly. He hadn’t exactly been waiting for Ron’s approval, but it was nice having it, all the same. “Thanks, mate,” he said.

Ron matched his smile. “Come on, let’s go inside. I can smell breakfast,” he said.

Harry brushed the grass off his jeans and followed him inside. Hermione was sitting at the table, and she gave Harry a tentative look over her coffee. He nodded at her, and she grinned.

“Have you both made up?” Ginny asked around a mouthful of bacon.

“Yeah, they have,” Hermione confirmed before either of them could say anything.

“Good. We can have a peaceful breakfast now without their pining looks ruining our appetite,” Ginny said, and Harry laughed as he sat down next to her.

*

Harry’s nervously, which had temporarily abated, grew stronger as the time to go meet his godson approached. “It’s going to be fine, mate,” Ron reassured him. “Just don’t break anything. And don’t break him, either.”

Harry was less than comforted by this advice.

After lunch, Ginny and Harry walked out past the security enchantments at the Burrow, Ginny held on to Harry’s arm as he Apparated them to the Tonks’.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” Ginny asked once they had reached. She looked a little nauseous and Harry understood the feeling; even after all this time, he didn’t really care for the feeling of Apparation.

“Yeah, I have,” Harry said. “But it’s hard to really remember much when you’ve being chased by Voldemort.”

“That’s a very valid point,” Ginny said.

Harry remembered then, that the last time he’d been here was the day Mad-Eye and Hedwig died, and frowned at the point.

“I bet it looks better by daylight, anyway,” Ginny said.

“Well, Riddle does have a way of ruining the landscape view,” Harry said dryly. They walked up to the front door, and Harry took a deep breath before he knocked.

When Andromeda opened the door, she was holding a small baby in her arms, a baby with turquoise hair and a curious expression.

“Hello, you two,” Andromeda said. If she was surprised to see Ginny, she didn’t show it, merely stepping aside to let the two in.

“Hi, Mrs Tonks—I mean, Andromeda,” Harry said, a little self-conscious. “I hope it’s okay that I brought Ginny, I thought—” Harry turned to Ginny, and noticed the expression on her face then. She had the widest smile Harry had ever seen on her, and her eyes had softened as she looked at Teddy.

“Oh, he’s precious,” she declared. “Is his hair always that bright?”

“It goes between turquoise and a darker blue at the moment, but he does seem to have chosen a colour palette that he likes,” Andromeda said. She looked at Teddy with a smile, not as wide as Ginny but as soft. “It goes back to brown when he’s asleep in the nights sometimes.” She led them back to the living room and sat down on the sofa.

Ginny and Harry sat down as well, but Ginny couldn’t seem to resist sliding closer to Teddy. “He’s still so little,” she whispered.

“Well, he isn’t three months old yet,” Andromeda told Ginny. “Would you like to hold him?”

“Oh, yes, please,” Ginny said eagerly. Within what seemed like a few seconds, she had settled the baby in her arms.

Harry moved closer to Teddy and looked down at him. Even with how small he was, his resemblance to Lupin was unmistakeable.

He had to clear his throat to prevent from tearing up. “How have you been?” he asked her softly.

“Well, it’s not easy to raise a baby at my age,” Andromeda said. She was as dignified as ever, but the small tremble in her lower jaw gave her away. “But I daresay it does help to distract me from thinking about… the others.” It seemed that she couldn’t bring herself to mention her husband, or her daughter and son-in-law.

“We’re always available for babysitting, or anything else you need,” Ginny put in. “You know how large our family is, Mrs Tonks. You and Teddy are part of it now, since you’re part of Harry’s. Mum even wants to have you both over for tea, and I know we’d all to have you, too. You don’t have to do any of it alone.” Her voice was remarkably clear; Harry found herself, yet again, admiring her.

“Thank you, Ginny,” Andromeda said, and dabbed at her eyes with an elegant handkerchief.

“Of course,” Ginny said. “I’ll go bring us some tea, shall I?” she said, and Harry thought of how Ron offered to make some tea whenever anyone was too upset. She turned to smile at Harry. “Here. Hold your godson.”

Carefully, she handed Teddy to Harry who, despite how startled he was at the suddenness of it, took him. He was unbelievably small. As Harry held him, Teddy let out a few noises of discontentment but then settled down. Harry placed his finger in Teddy’s tiny palm, and his fist closed around it with a surprising firmness. As Harry watched, Teddy’s eyes fluttered open, and Harry noticed with a pang that they resembled the dark, twinkling eyes of Tonks. Teddy closed his eyes again, and his hair changed colours to a bright pink, achingly similar to Tonks’ trademark bubblegum-pink shade.

He looked up at Andromeda, who still looked to be quite teary. “Has he… Has he done that before?” He asked softly.

“Only once or twice before,” Andromeda said. “I imagine it’s a coincidence, but… maybe it isn’t.”

Harry looked back down at Teddy, who had opened his eyes and was still clinging on to Harry’s finger. The baby smiled at him, seemingly content, and Harry sniffed a little. He decided then and there that he would do absolutely everything in his power to keep Teddy safe and happy. It suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world.

He didn’t know how long he spent like that, looking down at the two-month-old baby in his arms, but a soft clearing of his throat told him that Ginny had returned with the tea. Something suddenly occurred to him then, and he looked up at Andromeda. “I have a house-elf,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” Andromeda said.

Ginny sat down next to Harry, leaning down to kiss Teddy’s nose before she straightened up. “You do?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Kreacher,” he explained. “Sirius left the house and Kreacher to me after he died. The last year, we had to spend some time in Grimmauld Place, and it turns out he isn’t a bad sort at all, actually. I quite like him, now,” he admitted.

“Not the same Kreacher from Grimmauld Place?” Andromeda said. “I did always suspect he had a hidden soft side.”

“Just thinking of the hallway with the elf heads gives me the shivers,” Ginny muttered.

Harry felt that the both of them were rather missing the point. “No—you were saying that it isn’t easy, raising Teddy all on your own. I don’t really need a house-elf at all. Maybe Kreacher could help you?”

“I wouldn’t want to take advantage—” Andromeda began, but she looked hopeful.

“No, you aren’t,” Harry insisted. “I’m his godfather. You’re the one who said we’re family. Kreacher,” he called out.

With a soft  _ pop _ , Kreacher materialised, Regulus’s locket displayed proudly on his chest.

“Kreacher, would it be alright if you stayed here for a while and helped Mrs Tonks with Teddy?” Harry asked, indicating the baby, who was kicking out his legs happily.

Kreacher puffed out his chest. “Of course, Master,” he said, and turned to look at Andromeda. “Kreacher will be happy to help the old Mistress Black,” he added.

Andromeda laughed. “Haven’t heard that in a while. Thank you, Kreacher.”

“Were you at Hogwarts all this time?” Harry asked Kreacher, who nodded proudly. “Good job keeping yourself safe,” he said. “Would you inform McGonagall before you get all your—er—things here?”

Kreacher nodded again, and Disapparated with a small pop.

“Thanks, Harry,” Andromeda said. “And tell your mother that I will be happy to come to tea,” she told Ginny.

Harry waved away Andromeda’s gratitude. He heard Ginny and Andromeda begin talking again, but their voices seemed to fade to the background when he looked at Teddy who, in his opinion, was definitely one of the better babies in the world. He was glad Ginny had convinced him to write to Andromeda.

Looking at Teddy only intensified the feeling he’d been feeling earlier this morning. He was glad that Riddle was dead and they could all begin to live normal lives again, or their best approximation of it, but he didn’t think he’d be able to relax at all, knowing there were still Death Eaters, still Dark Wizards, out there, who could hurt Teddy, his godson, this tiny innocent baby. It seemed more important now than ever to ensure Teddy grew up in a world where he wouldn’t have to feel scared or nervous.

Harry wanted to sigh when he realised what all of this meant. He didn’t know if Hogwarts would reopen or not – although it seemed likely that it would in September – but even if it did, he couldn’t return to school. He needed to speak to Kingsley.


	5. v.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation about Ginny's past year, an admission, and a night-time visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of torture, swearing, and very PG-13 kissing (that will get less PG-13 next chapter, the way things are headed)
> 
> i know this chapter's a bit intense, so feel free to come chat with me on tumblr (lazyweekendmornings, link in end notes!) about it, or even in the comments if you'd prefer <3

Harry and Ginny left the Tonks’ house in the early evening, just after the sun had gone down, when the sky was still tinged with a light pink but was getting darker by the minute.

Ginny would have been content to stay for even longer, but of all people, Augusta Longbottom had showed up for ‘tea and a chat’ with Andromeda, and she had wanted to speak to Harry to ‘thank him for the tremendous role he played in the war’. One look at Harry’s face, which had gone from open and easy and a little bit in love as he looked at Teddy to guarded and a little nervous, had forced Ginny’s hand.

“Well,” she’d said, getting to her feet and brushing the crumbs off her jeans, “thank you so much for having us, Mrs Tonks, but Mum wanted us back in time for dinner.” The look of relief on Harry’s face had been immediate, and Ginny marvelled that Augusta and Andromeda didn’t pick up on it. As it was, it took every ounce of will power Ginny had to not laugh.

After a round of goodbyes, where Andromeda had promised to come by the Burrow with Teddy sometime the next week and Augusta had solemnly informed the both of them that she would see them during the upcoming trials, and Kreacher wrung out of Harry a promise to call him at the slightest needed and handed them a parcel of treacle tart (how he had managed to make that so fast, Ginny had no idea), they finally left the house, walking together through the garden outside. Harry held onto Ginny’s hand a little tighter than usual, but she didn’t comment on it.

“You’re going to have to get used to it, you know,” she said instead, turning to look at him once they were past the boundaries of the estate, where they could Apparate back home.

“Get used to what?” he said, a little weakly. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“To people thanking you. I mean, you single-handedly defeated Riddle. People are very grateful,” she said.

“It wasn’t singlehanded,” Harry said. “I mean… it wasn’t just me. Loads of people helped… I couldn’t have done anything without Ron and Hermione. And Dumbledore. And Snape… and Neville told us about what you did in Hogwarts, you and him and Luna…”

Ginny leaned in and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re going to have to tell me the entire Snape story sometime,” she told him when she pulled back from the kiss.

“I could tell you now, if you wanted,” Harry offered, taking a step back to look at her with an amused smile.

“You could,” Ginny said, and pretended to consider it, “or you could Apparate us to the Burrow, and we could find a private spot outside and snog until Mum calls us in to dinner. That might be just a little more fun that talking about Snape.”

Without any hesitation, Harry took her hand again and spun on the spot, taking them back home.

*

They settled down outside in the orchard once they had reached the Burrow. It was dark by then, and Ginny revelled in the absence of fear she felt. The past year, she wouldn’t have dreamed out being out with her boyfriend in the dark, for fear of Death Eaters.

Harry seemed just as content as she was. He was leaning against the tree, the same place he’d been in when they’d first reconciled, and she had settled herself in his lap, where it was the most convenient to kiss him. She closed her eyes as they kissed, feeling as if he was the realest thing in the world.

“God, I’m glad the war’s over,” she whispered, more to herself than anything else, when she pulled back and looked up at him.

For some reason, that made Harry tense up. She could feel the way his shoulders stiffened, because of their proximity.

“What is it?” she murmured.

“Nothing,” Harry said, but he didn’t seem convinced at all.

Ginny got her wand out and muttered _Lumos_ ; Harry’s face came into focus. His forehead was furrowed as he frowned.

“Okay, that’s not how you should look when I’m kissing you, so I hope something else is bothering you,” she said lightly, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out her free hand out to stroke, tenderly, at his stubbled jaw and cheek.

He took a moment to respond. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t anything Ginny expected.

“How bad was it at Hogwarts?”

Ginny tensed up. She moved her hand away, and was half-tempted to extinguish her wand-light and make a run for it back home. She didn’t do it. Instead, she waited for anything, a follow-up statement, a further question. When none arrived, she said, “What do you mean?”

“With the Death Eaters there,” Harry said. He didn’t seem to notice the way he was playing with the hem of Ginny’s shirt. “Because I know Snape was finally on our side. And he was the Headmaster, so I thought—”

“He was the Headmaster, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once,” Ginny finally said. “I heard him telling Alecto not to hurt us too much. He said it was too much clean-up for him to deal with, but maybe he had other reasons…”

“Yeah, I reckon he did,” Harry said softly.

“But that didn’t stop them. The Carrows. It wasn’t too bad, at first,” Ginny said. She had to force the words out, after a year of training herself to keep as quiet about it as she could. “They would talk about Dark Arts, and how scum Muggles were, and disgusting things like that. But if you spoke out against them…”

“Which you did,” Harry said.

“Which I did,” Ginny agreed. “It involved a Bat-Bogey Hex. Wands were banned from classes after that. It wasn’t good if you spoke out. The first time was in September Amycus threw a bottle at me. And then refused to let me go to the hospital wing throughout class. And I didn’t want to make a fuss.” Slowly, she handed Harry her alit wand. Once her hands were free, she tugged down one of the sleeves of her shirt, showing Harry the small white scar on her shoulder. “Luna helped me fix it after. It didn’t even hurt that much, I’ve had much worse. But that’s when he decided he didn’t like me.”

Harry traced the scar with his finger, but didn’t say anything.

“Do you remember in third year, when Moody tried out the Imperius curse on us?” she said, and Harry nodded. “It wasn’t really Moody, I mean. Crouch. Well, turns out the Carrows enjoyed the Unforgivables just as much as he did. Especially Amycus. He tested them out on a few students every week. His excuse,” she scoffed, “was that he wanted us to learn to fight it, but that’s complete bullshit, because none of us had wands to defend ourselves. I always got chosen. So did Luna sometimes. I think Neville did, too. I think he suspected us of the DA stuff, and besides, we’re blood traitors.”

“Every week?” Harry asked. She knew, from the steely tone in his voice, just how upset he was, but she didn’t allow herself to think about it. She couldn’t try and protect his feelings now, not when he seemed to want to know the grisly details.

“No. I mean, yes, but not just once a week…” Ginny squared her shoulders. “We also had detentions with them. I think if they hadn’t had other students to torture, it would’ve been every day, but it was only every few days. A couple times a week. The Death Eaters talk amongst themselves, did you know? They had these cozy little chat sessions, gossiped all about the things he’d done. Amycus didn’t know the details of Riddle’s diary, but he knew enough. So Luna and Neville, they would get the Cruciatus during detentions, and so would I, but… I got some other stuff. Added perks, I suppose.”

“What other stuff?” Harry asked. He was still tracing over her shoulder with his callused thumb.

“Legilimency,” Ginny said softly. “The Imperius Curse. He would taunt me while he did it, about having someone else in my head. I could throw off the Imperius Curse within the month, but it took me longer with Legilimency. I finally managed it by December. Before that, though… He isn’t very good at it, so he never saw anything too incriminating. Just… glimpses. But… Merlin, I really fucking hated it. I don’t like people in my head.” She was aware that her voice was dangerously thick, and she forced herself to pause, to compose herself.

“Gin,” Harry said. His voice was unbelievably soft. He set down the wands he’d been holding, his own and Ginny’s one, which was still illuminating them in weak light, and drew him to her, wrapping his arms around her.

“I finally learnt Occlumency. I acted up in McGonagall’s class until she gave me detention with her, and then I got her to teach me the theory. I would practice it every night, before I snuck out to meet the others in the DA. I learnt it by December. After that, I think it made him angrier that he couldn’t get in my head or force me under the Imperius. He resorted to Cruciatus after that. During class if he thought I wasn’t paying attention, during detention, this one time in the corridors on the way up to Gryffindor tower after class.” Ginny shuddered, thinking of how weak she had been on her feet that day, how she’d barely been able to walk. Neville and Demelza Robins had helped her up through the portrait hole that day, because her legs had been shaking too much to walk steady. “Sometimes his sister would get in on the fun, too. She’s a bit old fashioned with the torture, she used to enjoy breaking my arm and then Healing it, and breaking it again in the exact same spot. For an hour or so. No magical blood spilt, just a bit of pain.” She lifted her arm up to show Harry the place on her arm.

“Merlin,” Harry whispered. “And the others didn’t do anything? McGonagall? Flitwick?”

“They tried,” Ginny said quietly. “I think the most they could do was make sure they didn’t harm us outside class. No one was allowed in during class or detention. After that time, they made sure no student was ever alone in the corridors. That helped.” She wiped at her tears impatiently.

“Ginny…” Harry said.

“Don’t,” Ginny said. “There’s no point. It happened. We got through it. Kingsley’ll make sure those fuckers are behind bars.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. A few minutes passed like that, Harry holding her close and Ginny attempting to calm down. “Not… not just Kingsley,” he finally said.

“What are you talking about?” Ginny asked, grateful for the change in topic.

“I can’t sit back and let Kingsley and the others deal with it,” Harry said softly. “Not… not after everything that’s happened. Not after what they put you through. I need to be out there.”

Ginny didn’t say _out where_ or _deal with what_ , because she thought she knew what he meant. Not for the first time, she thought about differently she and Harry seemed to be reacting to the war. She would be happy if she never saw another Death Eater again, and Harry seemed to want to chase them down himself.

“You need NEWTs to join the Aurors,” she finally said. “But I think they might waive that requirement for the Chosen One. Ask Kingsley.”

Harry looked a little surprised. “I didn’t mention the Aurors,” he said.

“You didn’t have to. Honestly, Potter, you’re predictable at this point,” Ginny said, more to diffuse the tension than anything. It worked: a sudden chuckle burst out of Harry.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” he said, when he had calmed down. Ginny raised an eyebrow and looked at him. She very much hoped her expression was visible in the weak wandlight. “I mean,” he amended. “You won’t let them hurt you. You’ll stand up for yourself and give them absolute hell, and I’ll come snog you afterwards.”

“Much better,” Ginny said.

*

Ginny couldn’t sleep in the night. When she closed her eyes, images swam before her of the Carrows ugly sneers, and when she finally drifted off, it was an uneasy sleep that claimed her.

She finally gave up on sleeping a couple of hours into the process. A glance at Percy’s old watch, which she had stolen as soon as he’d gotten a new one for his seventeenth birthday, told her it was just past twelve fifteen am.

Hermione had told her a week or so ago that it was better to talk about things. Hermione had been busying herself since the war with books about trauma and recovery, books that Ginny had stoutly been refusing to read. It had felt oddly nice earlier, though, to speak to Harry about it. He was different from speaking to anyone else; he didn’t coddle her, and listened to her. She suspected that after everything he’d been through, nothing she said could scare him.

She grabbed her wand off her bedside table and muttered _Lumos_. As suspected, Hermione’s camp bed in the corner of the room was empty. Ginny wondered why any of them even bothered with the façade anymore.

She got up, making sure to keep quiet, and tip-toed out of the room to Bill and Charlie’s old room. She didn’t bother knocking, inching the door open as quietly as she could and walking in.

Harry was fast asleep, hair even messier than usual as if he’d been tossing and turning. It was odd to see him like this, without his glasses and the frown he wore around most people. She debated turning around and leaving the room, but Ginny Weasley was no coward.

She shook him once, gently, and then took a small step back. He started awake, grabbing his wand and pointing it at her as he shoved his glasses on, all within a few seconds. A little startled, she stepped back, and raised her hands in the air in surrender. He relaxed when he saw her, and lowered his wand.

“Oh, er. Sorry,” he mumbled. His voice was groggy from sleep. He set his wand back down and rubbed at his eye with his knuckle under his glasses.

“Hi,” Ginny whispered, and stepped closer to him. He slept without a shirt on, she realised. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious about her Holyhead Harpies t-shirt and underwear, which was all she had on, since she’d kicked off her pyjama bottoms in her sleep and had been too preoccupied to notice until just that second.

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at her with a concerned expression. His expression changed somewhat when he took in what she was wearing. She tugged the hem of her shirt down, but then gave up the attempt.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she finally said. “I was hoping—” she could feel her cheeks warm up, and she hoped to Merlin Harry couldn’t see her blush in the weak wandlight.

Luckily, he seemed to understand what she was getting at, and moved up in bed, making space for her.

Without another word, she extinguished her wand and laid it down on the table, next to Harry’s, and climbed into bed. She hadn’t ever slept in the same bed as another boy she wasn’t related to before, but she oddly didn’t feel as shy around Harry as she might’ve expected.

Harry took off his glasses and set them down, and then tentatively wrapped his arms around Ginny. She moved a bit closer to him, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. He was here, and real, and his skin was warm under her cheek.

“Night,” he murmured, tugging the duvet up above the both of them.

“Thank you,” she whispered after a moment, but he was already asleep by then, so she closed her eyes and let herself fall asleep as well. She didn’t have any more nightmares that night.


	6. vi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a conversation with Kingsley, and (finally) begins to tell Ginny some of what happened last year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to write, if I'm being real. I've been writing and rewriting it for a couple days, and I'm still not completely happy, but I figured I may as well post it so I can move on with the story!  
> As always, please let me know what you think! Kudos/bookmarks/comments may not seem like much, but they genuinely do motivate me to write faster. <3 hope you like it!

The Ministry was in complete shambles. Areas of the Atrium were roped off, clearly under construction or recovering from magical spell damage, and everyone in the building was rushing around, looking vaguely stressed out.

Harry thought about the last time he was in this building, and his grip tightened on his wand in the pocket of his robes. There was no ‘Magic is Might’ statue anymore, thank Merlin, but the area which formerly housed the statue was blocked off completely, making it harder to navigate the building.

“Blimey. They’re clearly taking their time with the rebuilding, aren’t they?” said Ron from next to him.

“Well, they need to restore everything, and modify the enchantments and protective spells, and undo all the spells the Death Eaters put up. It takes time, I suppose,” said Hermione.

“Yeah, but you’d think they could hurry up,” Ron grumbled.

Harry nodded in agreement with Ron, but all he said was, “Kingsley said to meet him on Level Two. Let’s go.”

They set off towards the lifts, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from looking around every couple of seconds, just to make sure they weren’t being followed. Luckily, everyone seemed too busy to even notice them, and by the time they reached the lift and got in, Harry’s shoulders had relaxed slightly.

“Where’s Ginny today? I thought she was coming with us,” Ron said, once the lift doors had shut.

“She left while you were getting changed,” Hermione told Ron. “She was meeting McGonagall, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Ron said. Ginny had received a letter yesterday from McGonagall, requesting her presence in her office. She had Flooed this morning, and Harry, who had gotten used to her presence over the last few weeks, was already feeling her absence acutely.

They got out on Level Two, and Ron looked around. If the atrium had been crowded, it was nothing compared to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Wizards and witches rushed around, and there were so many inter-departmental memos whizzing around above their heads that the air was filled with a constant buzzing sound.

Harry had wondered why Kingsley had wanted to meet them on this level instead of in his own office on Level One but looking around answered his question; it was clearly too busy in here for him to be spared.

He was saved from having to ask anyone to show them to where Kingsley was by the man himself appearing in front of them.

“Hello, you three. It’s good to see you again.” Kingsley’s voice was as slow and steady as ever, despite the chaos swirling around them.

“Thanks for meeting us on such short notice, Minister,” Harry said.

Kingsley waved a hand, seemingly disregarding Harry’s words. “Let’s go into the Head Auror’s office. We can talk there.”

“Won’t the Head Auror be there?” Hermione asked tentatively.

Kingsley shook his head simply. He led them through the floor, and into a small office. “Robards is away at the moment. It’s why I’m here, to make sure everything’s running smoothly. Sit down,” he said, and sat himself behind the desk. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down opposite him.

“So,” Kingsley said, once they had settled down, “what was the matter you wanted to discuss?”

Harry could feel Ron and Hermione’s gazes on him. He hadn’t told them this morning about the details, only that he’d asked to meet Kingsley and the both of them were welcome to come along if they wanted.

“Well, it’s about… the future, I suppose,” said Harry, after taking a moment to think about how best to phrase it.

Kingsley nodded, looking serious. “I see. Well, if it’s about Hogwarts, then I have from Minerva McGonagall her word that all students who missed out on their final years are more than welcome at Hogwarts to repeat them and complete their education, due to… shall we say the extenuating circumstances?” For the first time today, he smiled. “She is already in the process of arranging accommodation and working out the logistics of it.”

Harry could see, from the corner of his eye, Hermione sitting up straighter. Ron turned to look at Harry, giving him an incredulous look. Harry knew that he was thinking the same thing as he was, which was why he decided to speak up.

“How about if we don’t want to return to Hogwarts?” he asked. “What are our options then?” Much to his reluctant amusement, Hermione gasped quietly next to him.

“What do you mean?” Kingsley asked.

“Well, it’s just that it’s hard to go back to school and act like everything’s alright when there are still Death Eaters on the loose and we’ve spent the last year fighting,” said Ron. Harry was grateful Ron said that so he wouldn’t have to.

“I know you need NEWTs for it,” Harry said slowly. Despite what Ginny said, he didn’t know if the NEWT requirement could be waived. “But I’ve always wanted to be an Auror.” He didn’t say anything else when he saw the understanding look on Kingsley’s face.

“After the year you’ve had,” Kingsley said, and he seemed to be choosing his words with great caution, “and the feats you three, and many others your age have accomplished, I would say you have more than proved yourself. After all, if it weren’t for you, we would still be at war.” Harry shifted uncomfortably, but Kingsley spoke on. “I am in the process of designing an accelerated Auror training program with Gawain Robards. We both believe that it is imperative to strike now, to avoid any future threats of those Voldemort sympathisers who remain. If you join the program, you would begin training almost immediately, and take your NEWTs at the end of the year, along with the other Auror tests, and be qualified to be in the field by then as a practising Auror.”

This seemed almost too good to be true. Harry looked at Ron; the both of them exchanged a grin.

“I’m going to send out a letter to everyone in your year next week, with a sign-up form,” Kingsley continued, “I am hopeful that you three will consider signing up to the program. Hopefully, Neville will, as well; he’s more than proven himself. But it’s going to be open to anyone your age.” Kingsley got out a quill, and wrote something down on some parchment. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I’d like you to go over names of the people going on trial this week, so you’ll be prepared…”

*

“You’re sure you want to go back?” said Ron.

“Yes, Ron,” Hermione said. She sounded exasperated, and Harry couldn’t blame her; this was the third time in the last five minutes she was repeating herself.

“But then you’d be away from us for a year!”

“It’s only Hogwarts, Ron, we can write and there’s always Hogsmeade weekends…”

“Yes, but it’s not the same and—”

“We’re at the Floo,” Harry announced. He grabbed a handful of powder and threw it into the fire and after one  _ The Burrow _ shout, was stepping out into the kitchen of the Burrow. Ron and Hermione were behind him, still deep in conversation.

“I know, it’s just that I’ll miss you,” Ron was saying as he walked out of the fireplace, brushing the soot off his robes.

“I know. I’ll miss you, too,” Hermione said. Harry turned to look at her; her eyes were suspiciously bright. Ron was at her side instantly, wrapping his arm around her. “I’ll miss you both. I can’t believe neither of you want to go back.”

It wasn’t really an option for Harry at all. If he hadn’t promised Hermione that he would think about it for at least the next week, he would have signed up for the program then and there. The idea of going back to Hogwarts, spending a year studying instead of doing anything he could to round up and catch Death Eaters, wasn’t one he could consider at all. Ron seemed to feel the same way as him, but neither of them had said it as bluntly as all that to Hermione yet.

“But it’s only a year. We’ll be fine,” Ron said. “Won’t we, Harry?”

“Well… yeah, ’course we will,” said Harry, but it was hard to imagine getting through a year without Hermione by their side.

Hermione sniffled, but looked a little comforted. She had been close to tears for the last few weeks, ever since they got back to the Burrow. It didn’t take much to set her off these days. Harry patted her shoulder tentatively.

“And we’ve still got the rest of the summer,” Ron pointed out.

“That’s true,” Harry said, and glanced out of the window. It was a surprisingly sunny day today. “Do you want to play some Quidditch?” he asked Ron.

“Yeah, alright. Hermione, you coming?” Ron asked. At her doubtful look, he said, “C’mon, you rode a dragons, a broomstick should be child’s play by now.”

Laughing, she nodded, and the three of them set off for the orchard.

It only ended up being half an hour or so before Ginny joined them. Harry was too caught up in the makeshift game of Quidditch he was playing with Ron – Hermione, who had dismounted her broom after ten minutes, was curled up under a tree, reading her book – to see her on the ground. He was only aware of her presence when she flew up to him and caught the apple Ron was tossing to him just before he could get it.

“Your reflexes are getting slow,” she teased.

Harry was too happy to see her to think of a retort, and nudged his broom forward so he could lean in and kiss her.

“How was McGonagall?” Ron asked, when Ginny had pulled away.

“It’s a long story,” was all Ginny said, and threw the apple at Ron, who managed to catch it just in time. “Hermione, get up here,” she called out, flying her broom to Ron’s side. “Weasleys against non-Weasleys,” she added, sharing a high-five with Ron. “Get ready to be trumped, you two.”

*

“The Carrows are going on trial tomorrow,” Ginny said, once they had landed in the orchard after an hour-long game of two-a-side Quidditch that had ended in a surprising tie. Hermione had Summoned some Butterbeer and biscuits from the kitchen, and they were sprawled out on the grass, eating and sipping.

Harry shifted on the grass so he could be closer to Ginny without really thinking about it.

“Is that what McGonagall wanted to talk to you about?” Hermione asked. She looked sympathetic, and Harry wondered how much of the last year’s events Ginny had told her about.

Ginny shrugged. She nudged Harry’s shoulder until he wrapped his arm around her, and then she moved in closer to his side. Harry moved his hand to Ginny’s shoulder, where the scar she’d shown him yesterday was hidden under her robes. “Yes,” Ginny finally said.

“I can’t believe they’re starting the trials with the Carrows,” Ron said around a mouthful of biscuits.

“It’s alphabetical,” Hermione pointed out.

“Ugh. That means we finish with Yaxley,” Ron said, shuddering. “I can’t wait to take him down. Remember what happened at the Ministry?”

Harry nodded. At Ginny’s curious look, he said, “We broke into the Ministry to get the locket off Umbridge. Yaxley suspected us and followed us to Grimmauld Place. We escaped just in time.”

“What locket?” Ginny said.

Harry rubbed his thumb over Ginny’s shoulder absentmindedly. “A locket that used to belong to Salazar Slytherin. It was one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes.” Before Ginny could ask, he said, “A Horcrux is an object that has a bit of someone’s soul in it. Voldemort made six. Well, he set out to make six.” He had long decided that he would tell Ginny everything, and after everything she had confessed to him yesterday, he decided he owed her the truth. It would take too long to tell her everything all at once, but he had to start somewhere.

“They’re seriously evil,” Hermione told Ginny. “Just creating one is awful. And destroying one is almost impossible. There are only a few ways to do it beyond repair.”

“Yeah, it’s fucked up,” said Ron.

Harry chuckled at that. “It is quite fucked up, isn’t it?”

“Wait,” Ginny said slowly. She sat up, and turned to look at Harry, dislodging his arm from around her shoulders. “It’s an object with someone’s soul in it… and Riddle made more than one…”

Harry thought he knew what she was getting at, but waited for her to complete her thought just in case he was wrong.

“In first year… the diary…”

Harry nodded. “Dumbledore thought the diary was the first one he made.”

Ginny’s hand came up to cover her mouth. She looked more surprised than Harry had ever seen her.

“Harry destroyed that one with Basilisk venom,” Hermione told Ginny, not unkindly. “He had stabbed the Basilisk with Gryffindor’s sword, so the sword was imbued with the venom. So when he stabbed the diary with it, it was destroyed.”

“And that was why Dumbledore—” said Ron.

“That’s why he left it to you in the will,” Ginny completed, looking at Harry. Her eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them, and she suddenly looked younger than she was. “Did you finally get it?”

Harry nodded. “Broke into Gringotts to do it.”

Ginny looked as though several things were starting to make sense. “That was what you’ve been doing all year? Looking for these… Horcruxes?” she said the word carefully.

“Well… mostly, yeah,” Harry nodded.

“Lunch,” Molly called out from inside the house.

“We’ll tell you the rest of the story later,” Harry promised Ginny. Ron got to his feet and took Hermione’s hand, and they both walked in together, Hermione waving her wand to get rid of the debris on the grass.

Ginny stayed where she was, making no moves to get up. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she told Harry quietly.

Harry thought about how he hadn’t told Ginny yet about the fact that he was the accidental seventh Horcrux. He was afraid, after Ginny’s experiences with the diary, that it would be too much for her. He didn’t want to protect her, not exactly, but he was scared that it would make her view him differently, somehow. “Yes,” he finally said, acknowledging the truth in her words.

Ginny levelled Harry with a look and stood up. “We’ve got time,” she finally said, and waited for Harry to stand up before she began walking back to the Burrow for lunch. “You did promise me the rest of the story.” She squeezed his hand briefly.

“I know,” Harry said quietly. He was already dreading it.


	7. vii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of the Carrow trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO SO SO SORRY for how delayed this is! here are my reasons:  
> 1) i am in my final year of university, and everything is exhausting all the time  
> 2) chronic health problems... never fun. it's been a tough few weeks.
> 
> i hope you enjoy this (slightly shorter) chapter. thank you so much to all of the people who've left feedback. genuinely wouldn't have been motivated to write this without all of you. as always, let me know what you think, and i hope you enjoy, and sorry for the delay! i honestly have no idea when the next chapter will be up- hopefully within the next couple weeks. come speak to me on tumblr (lazyweekendmornings) if you want <3

When the Minister for Magic cleared his throat, everyone in Courtroom Seven fell silent. Which was saying something, Ginny thought, because the room was absolutely packed. Witnesses, the Wizengamot jury, the press, Hogwarts professors, and witches and wizards who looked vaguely familiar though Ginny couldn’t place their name were packed into the room and had been chattering none-too-quietly to themselves while the jury deliberated.

She hadn’t said a word in the last half an hour, ever since she had finished testifying on the witness stand. She hadn’t looked the Carrows in the eye even once as she calmly, to the best of her knowledge, recounted every single thing the Carrows had done to her and to the others at Hogwarts, everything she knew. She didn’t look at her mother’s tearful face or her father’s pale one, either. Instead, she had kept her gaze focused on Kingsley’s grave face as she spoke. When she had turned away, it had only been to glance at Harry, who was sitting down toward the front of the courtroom, jaw set and gaze hard. He had met her eyes and nodded once, and that had worked to steady her. Then again, that was the effect that Harry tended to have on her.

He squeezed her hand now, but neither of them said anything. She sat up straighter in her seat, shoulders pushed back and looked, for the first time all day, to the Carrows. Amycus was smirking at her but Alecto… she looked absolutely wild. Her eyes glinted with a familiar anger that made Ginny want to flinch. She didn’t, though. She refused to cow down, not now, not ever.

“The Wizengamot has finished deliberating,” Kingsley said. He spoke slowly but held the attention of every single person in the room. Ginny couldn’t hear anyone so much as inhale. “Amycus and Alecto Carrow have been found guilty of multiple counts of the Unforgiveable curses. This includes—” and now, finally, was when Kingsley didn’t sound as composed as usual; Ginny could detect a distinct note of anger in his voice – “the torture of students of Hogwarts, underage students, not to mention the suspected murder of countless Muggles. For this, they will serve a lifetime in Azkaban, with no chance of early release.”

Kingsley paused. Ginny wondered why. The courtroom seemed as silent to her as ever. Silent enough that she could hear an odd buzzing sound in her ears. He seemed to be awaiting something.

A second later, she realised what it was he had been anticipating. The courtroom erupted into sound, cheering, some snarling at the Carrow fuckers, some clapping. Ginny, for her part, couldn’t move. She felt oddly numb, and the buzzing in her ears wouldn’t die down.

“It’s over,” a quiet voice breathed in her ear. A familiar voice.

She looked up. Harry was looking at her and, unlike the others, didn’t seem on the verge of breaking into applause. He looked determined, and serious.

“It’s over,” she repeated, very slowly. There didn’t seem to be much else to say.

He squeezed her hand, and then: “they won’t fucking touch you again,” he said, even quieter than before. “Or the others. They won’t touch anyone again.”

She paused for a moment, and then another, and then a smile slowly broke across her face. She leaned up and threw her arms around Harry’s neck and clung on tightly. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, and she could feel his arms around her, one on her waist and slowly, clumsily, moving its way up her back, under her hair.

 _They won’t touch anyone again_.

His words seemed to echo in her brain, again and again, synching up with her heart to form a reassuring promise.

 

*

Her family had been wary with her all day. Ginny supposed she couldn’t blame them, not after everything she’d had to recount. It made her angry, though, irrational though it was. She was nearly seventeen, had proven she was capable of dealing with a hell of a lot more than they gave her credit for, and didn’t fucking need to be coddled.

She reached a breaking point after dinner.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Bill and Fleur, who had attended the trial, had dropped in, and so had George, and Percy. It was a crowded room, but an unWeasleyish silence persisted, apart from Bill and Hermione making conversation about – of all things, honestly – the reforms Gringotts was putting through to the banking system. Apart from their conversation, and Percy contributing every now and then, the only sound was the scraping of forks against plates.

Harry was by her side. Of course he was. He hadn’t left her side all day. If it hadn’t been for the quiet way he was doing it, Ginny would have accused him of hovering. As such, it seemed almost like he was the only thing keeping her from exploding.

Ginny had been aware of the looks her family had been giving her all day when they thought she wasn’t looking but did her best to ignore it. She really didn’t want to draw more attention to it. After they finished their meal, they slowly filed into the living room, as if by a silent consensus. Mum waved her wand, sending the dishes to the sink, and the others walked into the living room.

Ginny sat down on the sofa, and turned to Hermione. She was just about to ask her whether she wanted to play a round of Exploding Snap – not that she felt like cards, but at least then there would be something to distract all of them, and no one would have time to worry about her if she accidentally on purpose caused a burnt eyebrow or two during the game – when Bill came up to her. He picked up the blanket draped across the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I’m not cold, Bill,” she said.

“Are you warm?” Percy asked. Where had he even come from? Honestly. “It’s because you’re sitting by the fireplace. You need to move,” he added.

“I’m not—” before she could say that she wasn’t warm, either, it was Dad’s turn to speak up.

“Are you sure you’re up to this? It’s been a long day, Ginny, maybe you should go to bed.”

Ginny made a show of picking up Harry’s hand to look at the time on his watch. He looked distinctly uncomfortable as she did. “It’s not even nine o’clock yet, Dad,” she said.

“Yes, but you have had a bit of a long day,” Hermione said.

Ginny felt betrayed by even Hermione turning on her.

“Look, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Bill said, with the air of someone soothing over troubled waters. “Gin, Dad’s right, maybe you should go lie down, maybe cool off, you’ve been through enough.”

“I don’t think going to bed early is going to make up for a year spent tortured, thanks, Bill,” Ginny snapped. Bill winced back at that, looking shocked.

“Gin, Bill just meant—” George started, but Ginny cut him off.

“I don’t fucking need to be coddled!” she shouted. She got to her feet and threw the blanket back onto the sofa.

“Ginevra Weasley,” Mum, who had just come to the living room, said, sounding nearly as angry as she was. “There’s no need for that kind of language, absolutely no need!”

“There is absolutely a need!” Ginny shouted.

“No, there is not!” Mum said.

Ginny couldn’t look at anyone. She felt a ball of anger in her chest, threatening to burst forth at any moment. “Yes, there is. I need you all to—to—”

_To stop acting like a cup of tea will make me forget about everything and go back to being the baby of the family. To somehow know exactly what it is that I want to hear and say it to me._

“Merlin’s sake. Fuck this,” she muttered and walked upstairs. She slammed the door shut in her bedroom, making sure to lock the door behind her.

*

She didn’t speak to anyone until the next morning. She thought she heard footsteps outside her door in the night, but no one ventured in. She couldn’t lock her door in with magic – the fucking Trace apparently still mattered, even after everything – so any of the others would have been able to unlock her door and walk right. Luckily, none of them did. She didn’t think she could handle talking to any of them right now.

She snuck out early the next morning, before any of the others were awake. She couldn’t be in her bedroom anymore. She hadn’t slept very well and, staring at the ceiling above her in the dim pre-sunrise light of the dawn, felt rather as if the walls were closing in on her, making it impossible to think.

She made her way down the stairs, in her pyjamas and a jumper she thought may have belonged to Bill ten or so years ago. The kitchen was empty, as was the living room, but she didn’t stay there. Instead, she went outside, treading the familiar path to the shed to grab her broom. She never felt as suffocated when she was up in the air, when she didn’t have to think about anything.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when she walked to the orchard and she found Harry there, but she was, which in itself was proof of how thrown off she was.

“Oh. Hi,” she said, making her way over to him.

Harry blinked up at her, clearly half asleep. He seemed to have brought out the blanket from the bed with him and spread it out on the grass, and as he squinted up at her from behind his glasses, Ginny felt some of the residual anger in her chest melt away.

“Hi yourself,” he told her as she set her broom down and sat down next to him.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, but when Harry leaned down and took Ginny’s hand, she didn’t stop him.

“They’re just worried about you,” he said, very quietly.

If it had been anyone else, she would have snapped at them, lashed out instinctively. But this wasn’t just anyone, so she forced herself to take a deep breath, and then another, before answering.

“Doesn’t mean they’re allowed to act like I’m a child.”

For the second time in the morning, Ginny was surprised by Harry: he nodded in agreement, which had been the last thing she was expecting. “Yeah. You can take care of yourself.”

“I can,” Ginny agreed. She squeezed Harry’s hand.

“But they’re allowed to worry. They’re family. It’s what family does,” Harry said. The way he said those words had Ginny convinced he was repeating something Hermione had told him.

Ginny let out a snort of laughter. “Yeah? Remember Grimmauld Place? Or all of your fifth year? Or, come to think of it, last summer before Bill’s wedding? Don’t remember you been too keen on people worrying about you then,” she said.

Harry chuckled, just as dry as Ginny’s snort had been. “That was different.”

“Hypocrite,” Ginny said, but she smiled when Harry looked at her.

“It’s just hard,” he said, bringing a hand up to touch her shoulder, right on the scar only he knew about. “Knowing how much you’ve had to go through. It’s hard to hear. I thought you were… I thought you were safe. Reckon the others did, too.”

“Now you know,” Ginny said, “how we felt about you, all these years.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to understand that now,” he whispered, and then, suddenly, he was kissing her, slow and gently, he was laying down on the blanket and pulling her down on top of him.

Everything was gentle, everything was blissful, all she had to think about was Harry, his callused hands caressing her waist, slipping under her shirt, roaming up her back.

“I love you,” he whispered, suddenly.

She looked down at him, her long hair falling like a curtain over his face. He brought his other hand up then, cupping her cheek and stroking his hand over her cheekbone.

“I know,” she whispered, and leaned down to kiss him again. She closed her eyes, tried to ignore the tears that slipped out from beneath her closed eyelids. She felt a rough thumb at her cheek, wiping them away.

Only one day of trials so far, and it was already so difficult. Ginny knew the next few days, the next few weeks, would only get more difficult for all of them. There would be more fights, more of her family babying her, more she’d have to hear about the things all of them had been through the past year.

Right now, though, she didn’t have to face any of that.

And she didn’t have to. Right now, she could let her boyfriend lay her down on the blanket in the light of the sunrise and kiss her all of her and let herself believe that everything would be okay. It wasn’t okay now. It wouldn’t be okay for a while. But it would be, eventually.

“I love you,” she said, lifting up her arms as Harry slowly, carefully, tugged her jumper off her.

She looked up at him, smiling at the way his green eyes twinkled with amusement. “I know,” he said, parroting her own words back to her, and she laughed, pulling him closer to her once she’d managed to get his t-shirt off, too.

It was a new day, and they would get through it together.


	8. viii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting, a decision, and an admission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW okay so it has been a hot minute since i updated this, hasn't it? i do have a reason for the absence, though: i've been completing my degree at uni, complete with a dissertation and several essays that have had me SWAMPED. i am officially Done with University, though, so hopefully i can get back to a semi-regular updated schedule! i hope you enjoy this chapter, and feel free to hit me up on tumblr (lazyweekendmornings there as well) to talk about university, this fic, or how underrated ginny weasley is as a character! <3 thanks so much for reading, and for leaving the loveliest comments/reviews that i go back to re-read whenever i'm having a particularly difficult day. hope you enjoy the chapter, and - as always - i'd love to know what you think!

“Thank you for coming to meet me,” Kingsley said. He sat down at his desk, rubbed a hand over his face. Harry noticed that his earring, which he’d taken out when presiding over the Carrow trial yesterday, was back in.

“How are the trial preparations going, Minister?” Ron asked as he sat at the seats Kingsley gestured tiredly towards.

Kingsley waved his want. Three cups appeared before him, Ron, and Harry; another wave, and a teapot came flying in and poured out a cup of tea for all of them. Harry was suddenly reminded of Mrs Weasley.

“About as well as can be hoped, I think,” Kingsley answered Ron. “Letting the press in to the Carrow trial meant that the public knows the trials are being conducted fairly—”

“Like those bastards deserve a fair trial,” Ron muttered. After everything the Carrows had done to Ginny, Harry was wont to agree.

“—and now it’s just a case of putting our heads down and getting through it as best as we can,” Kingsley continued, unperturbed.

“Is that what you wanted to see us about? The trials?” Harry asked. They had gotten an owl sometime after breakfast, he and Ron, from Kingsley, asking that they come in to see him at their soonest convenience.

“No. Well, not just that,” Kingsley amended. “How is Ginny doing?” he added, his tone less professional and more concerned.

“She’s alright,” Harry said.

“She got angry with everyone yesterday, stormed into her room, and acted like nothing happened at breakfast. Normal Ginny behaviour,” Ron snorted. “But that’s the Carrows, innit. Reckon they’d be enough to unsettle anyone.”

“Reckon we’re all going to be very unsettled the next couple weeks,” Harry said quietly. The Carrows had only been the first trial. He was already dreading the Malfoys’ one. He knew he would be called to testify, as would Ron and Hermione, and possibly Dean and Luna, after what happened at Malfoy Manor; truth be told, he had no idea what he would say at all, and was doing his best not to think about it.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Kingsley agreed, and let out a sigh. He sipped his tea, and then straightened in his seat, as if forcing himself to pull it together. “Anyway, as I said, that isn’t what I called you both in for.”

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked, shoving his hand into his pocket and gripping his wand tightly. He could see Ron tense up beside him from the corner of his eye.

“Yes, yes. Everything’s alright. I received an owl from Robards this morning. I expect him to be back in a day or two,” Kingsley told them. “I know this is a lot to ask and, after everything, you two deserve some time off, but—”

“What is it?” Ron asked, when Kingsley hesitated.

“I had spoken to you earlier, about designing a new Auror training program with Robards,” Kingsley said, setting his cup back down. “Well, it seems like I was being overly optimistic with how much time I had. The trials are taking up more of my time than I thought, especially as it seems like I need to be presiding over every single one, or the Wizengamot will not be satisfied as to its fairness.” To Harry’s amusement, he rolled his eyes. “But we intend to send around a sign up form after the trials conclude, which means we need to have the program more or less ready by then. Now, I know Hermione intends to go back to Hogwarts in September, but you both want to join. So, I was hoping you two would meet with Gawain in my stead, to help design the program.”

Of all of the things Harry was expecting, it wasn’t that. To his left, Ron looked as surprised as he was. “Er – Kingsley, we’re not really qualified for that sort of thing,” Harry pointed out.

Kingsley surprised Harry when he laughed. “Who better than you two and Hermione to know about what we need to prepare for?” he pointed out, still laughing. “I can’t think of more qualified people.”

Harry supposed he had a point.

“Of course,” Kingsley added, composing himself with visible effort, “it wouldn’t just be you. I’ve also written to Professor McGonagall to ask her for her advice. And Hermione, even though she doesn’t want to join us yet, is more than welcome to help, as well.”

“She’s already started placing orders for the books she reckons she’ll need for Hogwarts,” Ron told Kingsley, shaking her head. “I really don’t think she’ll turn down any option for extra work.”

“Good,” Kingsley said, and looked down at a piece of parchment on his desk. “If you could let me know by tomorrow what her decision is, I would appreciate that. Now, I’ve heard that you two still don’t have your Apparition licenses,” he said, with another amused smile. “I can’t have any members of my Magical Law Enforcement team breaking the law, can I? I’ve scheduled for you both to go take your tests now, just so we can get it over with and it’s one less thing to worry about.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, genuinely touched.

“It’s really good to have a Minister who’s actually decent,” Ron said, giving Kingsley a grin as he and Harry stood up. Harry nodded fervently in agreement.

“Well, it certainly helps,” Kingsley agreed, standing up and shaking each of their hands in turn. “Go down to Level Six, Wilkie Twycross is waiting for you there. And don’t fail,” he added with a smile, “we’ve got enough on our plates to deal with at the moment already.”

 

*

A couple of hours and an encounter with Wilkie Twycross later, Harry Apparated onto the outskirts of the Burrow with a loud _crack!_ , Apparition licence clutched firmly in his hand.

“It’s good we don’t have to worry about getting arrested for that anymore,” Ron said a moment later, when he Apparated in next to him.

“Well, to be fair, I think I was more worried about being arrested for being Undesirable Number one than a licence,” Harry said dryly. Laughing, the two of them began walking back to the house.

“It’s insane, isn’t it? That Kingsley wants us to help,” Ron said after a moment.

Sensing that Ron was in the mood for a chat, Harry stopped on the grass of the orchard, by the apple tree. He was becoming far more familiar with the orchard than he was with the inside of the Burrow.

Ron took out his Deluminator and clicked it. A spherical ball of light floated up from inside it and hovered over them. The sun had set half an hour ago or so, and it had been hard to see or focus on much in the dim dusk light. In the sudden light the Deluminator provided, Harry could see Ron’s freckled face, the way he was frowning thoughtfully.

“It is insane, yeah,” Harry agreed.

“I honestly didn’t think we’d be here,” Ron said. “Helping the Ministry. Joining it. After the way they acted last year…”

“It isn’t the old Ministry, though. It’s Kingsley,” Harry pointed out. “Not… I dunno, Fudge or Thicknesse or summat.”

“Yeah. He isn’t a tosspot, not like the rest of them,” Ron said. “I mean, look at the way he’s handling all of the trial stuff.”

The two of them fell silent; Harry knew they were both thinking of yesterday, of the Carrow trial.

“I think he’s doing a good job,” Harry said, and cleared his throat.

“He is. Sent those fuckers straight to Azkaban like they deserve,” Ron muttered. Harry could see that the tips of his ears were red. Harry couldn’t blame him. “Hermione reckons we need to be a part of it as much as possible. Rebuilding the Ministry and all of that,” he added after a minute.

“Yeah?” Harry said.

“Yeah. She’d be happy about this. Well, she’d be happy Kingsley asked us to help. Still don’t think she’s happy that we’re not going back,” Ron said.

Harry didn’t bother asking _going back where?_ “Well, yeah, it’ll be weird, her going back without us. I don’t want to go back, though. I don’t think I’m going to change my mind,” he admitted.

“Yeah. Me neither,” Ron agreed.

“It’ll be weird, though,” Harry said again. Come September, Hermione would be at Hogwarts. Ginny would go, too.

“Have you thought about what we’d do?” Ron asked.

Harry turned to look at him, nonplussed.

“What we’ll do without her. When we start Auror training. Can’t go on staying here, can we?” Ron said, like it was obvious.

“Well – er, no, I suppose not,” Harry agreed. He hadn’t thought about it, but he didn’t know if he’d want to stay at the Burrow while Hermione and Ginny were at Hogwarts, when it was no longer the holidays. “Could always stay at Grimmauld Place,” he suggested. “It’s close to the Ministry and all that.”

“Yaxley and the others got in, though,” Ron pointed out.

“Yeah, they did. We’d have to go check on it,” Harry said. He had no idea what state Grimmauld Place was in. The Death Eaters had gotten in, and Harry somehow doubted that they had been very careful when going through the place. At the same time, it was Sirius’s house, his own house. He didn’t know if he could avoid it forever.

Ron shrugged. “We could ask Kingsley or my dad to come look at it with us. And we could look for other options, too” he suggested. “Even if we, you know, start fixing it up, we don’t have to live there.”

“Yeah. Let’s do that, then,” Harry said, immensely relieved.

Ron clicked the Deluminator once more, and, in silent consensus, the two continued their walk back into the house in the dim light of the dusk.

*

“But where would you live, then?” Ginny asked.

They had just finished dinner, and Harry had made his way up to Bill and Charlie’s room. He hadn’t been surprised when Ginny had joined him a short while later. They were both sitting on the bed, Harry leaning back against the wall, Ginny cross-legged at the foot of the bed and regarding him with an intense expression as he filled her in on everything that had happened today.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and reached his hand out, stroking over her bare knee. All she was wearing was an old, oversized Weasley jumper and her underwear, and Harry was finding it quite difficult to focus on the conversation without letting his mind wander back to memories of this morning, where he and Ginny had been alone in the orchard, and they had—

“You couldn’t just stay here?” Ginny asked, interrupting his very pleasant thought process.

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. Might be easier, being closer to the Ministry. And I reckon it’d be weird, staying here without Hermione and you,” he said.

Ginny moved closer to him, settling down next to him and tugging the duvet up over them. Harry wrapped his arm around her, resting his hand over her slim waist.

“Suppose it’d be fun, if you had your own place. We wouldn’t have to worry about my brothers or parents sneaking in and interrupting us,” Ginny murmured. She leaned over and kissed at his jaw in a way that made a shiver run down Harry’s body.

“I’d be living with your brother, though,” he couldn’t resist pointing out. “And he’d almost definitely walk in on us. And interrupt us.”

Ginny groaned. “Thanks for that, Potter. Proper spoiled the mood,” she said.

Harry laughed, tugging Ginny in a bit closer to him. He tugged his glasses off, setting them aside on the bedside table before he settled back against the pillows. He could feel Ginny’s breath against his neck, warm and reassuring. “You could come stay with us. Over your vacations,” he suggested.

“I could, yeah,” Ginny said.

Harry knew something was wrong by the way she went quiet after, instead of directing a teasing comment towards him. Instead of saying anything, he moved to stroke her fiery hair, waiting for her to speak.

“I’m… worried, about going back,” she said after a moment. “After the Carrows, all of that shit, I… I’m scared,” she whispered.

He didn’t know if she would have admitted it to anyone else. He didn’t even know if she would have admitted it to him if they hadn’t been lying down in a dark room, if he’d been able to look into her eyes. Still, it felt monumental, somehow, Ginny trusting him with this admission. He really, really didn’t want to mess it up.

“I think it’d be a bit insane if you weren’t,” he said, and turned his head to the side, pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Yeah. Suppose you’re right,” she said. Her voice sounded suspiciously thick, but Harry didn’t comment on it.

“Besides,” he said, when she didn’t say anything else, “who’s going to captain the Quidditch team if you don’t go back? McGonagall survived Voldemort, but I dunno if she’d survive losing the Cup to Slytherin.”

He counted it as a victory when Ginny started to laugh. With the way he was holding her, he could feel her relax into his side. “You’ve got a point,” she said, once her laughter had subsided. “She’d go insane.”

“She would. Really, you’d be doing her a favour by going back,” Harry agreed.

“I definitely would,” she said, and then, “we should get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

“What’s happening tomorrow?” Harry asked, bringing up his free hand to muffle his yawn.

“The Dolohov trial, for one. And Andromeda and Teddy are coming over for tea after. She wrote to Mum while you were at the Ministry,” Ginny told Harry.

Smiling at the prospect of seeing Andromeda and Teddy again, Harry settled down in bed with Ginny, letting himself drift off to sleep with her held securely in his arms.

*

 

 

 

 


	9. ix.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A picnic with a baby, and an overdue conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who's left comments and kudos and bookmarks, all of you make me very happy! this is very feelings-heavy and plot-weak, but that is also true for this fic in general, so you really shouldn't be surprised by now, haha <3 as always, please let me know what you think, and feel free to talk to me over on tumblr if you'd like. hope you enjoy!

**_ix._ **

 

“I don’t know why they’re bothering with the trials,” Andromeda said, setting her cup of tea back down in its saucer with a decisive _clink_.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“Well, we know they’re guilty, don’t we? We should just throw the lot of them in jail,” said Andromeda – Ginny still wanted to call her Andy, but she didn’t think they were there yet.

It was an unusually sunny day for May, so they were all sitting outdoors. Hermione, Ginny, Andromeda, Ron, and Mum were all sitting at the table with cups of tea. At Andromeda’s words, Hermione straightened up, with a righteous look in her eye that was familiar to Ginny. She turned to the side to look at Harry to exchange a smile with him, but he was completely preoccupied. He was on a blanket in the grass, holding tiny Teddy in his arms, and he was looking down at him and seemed to have tuned out everyone else.

“It’s important to set the precedent for a fair trial, Mrs Tonks. They’re rebuilding the Ministry, they can’t lay the grounds for any corruption in the future,” Hermione started to say.

“I understand that,” Andromeda agreed, seemingly reluctant. “But there is a part of me that wishes we could toss those scum in Azkaban.”

“It’s what they deserve,” Ron agreed, reaching out to grab himself another sandwich.

“Ron!” Hermione sounded fondly exasperated, in the way she only ever sounded with Ginny’s brother. “Think about Sirius, everything that happened because of an unfair legal system. If we don’t give these people fair trials, it means that innocent people in the future could suffer. We have to be—”

“Be part of the change, yes, I know,” Ron agreed. He had on what Ginny thought of as his Hermione smile, where he looked rather like a lovesick puppy, in her opinion. Sometimes she wondered how it had taken those two as long to get together as it had. Looking at them now, giving each other fond looks from across the table in between words, reminded her oddly of her own parents.

“Well, yes, I suppose you’re right,” Andromeda said, and she looked reluctant to admit it. Ginny had only met her a few times, but she didn’t really think Andromeda was the sort of person who admitted anyone else was wrong often. She was different to her daughter in that aspect; the first thing Tonks had ever said to Ginny had been _damn sorry I fucked up the damn troll’s foot yet again_ followed by _sorry for swearing Molly_.

Thinking about Tonks made her suddenly, inexplicably sad. She could imagine her here, at the table, or maybe with Harry and her son on the blanket, turning her nose into different shapes. She wondered if Teddy would like that. He probably would, babies liked that sort of thing, didn’t they?

“Harry, dear, you haven’t eaten yet,” Mum spoke up, interrupting Ginny’s suddenly morbid train of thought.

Harry looked up. “Oh. Yeah. Got distracted I suppose.”

“Well, dear, you’d better eat something soon, or all the sandwiches will be gone,” Molly said.

“Yeah, especially if Ron has his way,” Ginny said, turning to raise her eyebrow at her brother.

“Oi! Lay off, I haven’t eaten since lunch,” Ron grumbled.

“None of us have, Ron, that’s kind of how mealtimes work,” Ginny couldn’t resist saying.

“Be sure not to eat all of them, Ron, Harry still hasn’t eaten any,” Hermione said.

“I’m not too hungry,” Harry said. “And Teddy’s nearly asleep, I don’t want to disturb him…”

“Nonsense, dear,” Mum said, as if it is was the last word. “Is it that you don’t like corned beef? I can go in, make some more—”

Harry looked alarmed at the prospect of making Mum do any more work. Ginny decided to take pity on him. “Here, I’ll pass you a couple so you don’t have to move,” she said, and got to her feet. She heaped her plate with sandwiches and carried it over to the blanket.

“Thanks,” Harry said, but Ginny was too distracted by the adorable baby in Harry’s arms to pay him much attention.

“Here, let me hold him so you can eat,” she offered, and carefully lifted the baby into her arms. “Hi, Teddy,” she cooed. Teddy was half asleep, and had none of his usual energy, but Ginny still thought he was the cutest thing in possibly the entire universe. He scrunched up his nose and the turquoise in his hair faded to a brown as he drifted closer to sleep, and Ginny was absolutely, totally in love.

She thought she could feel her mother’s gaze on her, but she tuned out everything else as she looked down at Teddy, letting him cheer her up from her thoughts of his mother.

*

Andromeda finally left a couple of hours later, despite Mum’s repeated invites to stay for dinner. “No, it’s alright, Kreacher will sulk if I don’t eat what he’s made and Teddy should get to sleep,” she insisted, polite but firm. Harry seemed just as reluctant as Mum to let them leave, and Ginny, on her part, wasn’t too keen on it, either. The past few days, with the Carrow trial and everything that had drudged up, had been difficult, try as she had to not let it get to her. It was far easier to ignore the sadness and the grief that had lodged itself in her chest with a happy baby nearby.

She was quiet through dinner, although she did look up from her plate of stew to share a quick smile with Harry when Ron reacted to Hermione wiping something off his cheek by putting his elbow in his glass of water.

“We should get started on some work,” Hermione announced after dinner, and Ginny wanted to laugh at the look on Ron’s face. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Ron,” Hermione added, clearly noticing what Ginny had. “Kingsley wanted us to help with the Auror programme, and we should get started. This is our chance to do something _good_ , something useful—”

“We already agreed to help, Hermione,” Harry said, sounding amused. “We agreed even before you did, actually. You don’t have to convince us.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “Well, yes, I suppose you’re right. But we have some time now, especially since you’re meeting Kingsley tomorrow. It’d be nice to tell him we’re making progress.”

“You’re meeting Kingsley tomorrow?” Dad asked Harry.

“I am, yeah. The Malfoy trial’s coming up in a week and I’ve been summoned as a witness, I have to, er, talk to him about that,” Harry said.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. At the mention of the Malfoys, Hermione had gone a bit pale, and Ron immediately moved to wrap his arm around her. She was reminded of the fact that there was so much she still didn’t know about the last year. Beneath the table, Harry’s hand found hers, which did serve to make her feel better. “I’ll tell you later,” he told her, loud enough for only her to hear, and that helped, too.

“We should get started, yeah. Hermione’s right,” he added to the others, and looked at Mum. “Thanks for dinner, Mrs Weasley, it was delicious,” he said, polite as ever. Ginny practically felt her mum melt.

“No problem, dear,” she said fondly.

“I’ll help clear up, Mum,” Ginny said suddenly, and gave Harry’s hand a squeeze before she stood up. There were some days when she felt just fine, or as fine as she could be under these circumstances, and there were days like today, where the idea of going up to her room and being alone with her thoughts was a terrifying one.

Mum gave her a look like she knew exactly what was running through her mind, but all she said was, “That would be lovely, Ginny, thank you.”

Hermione, Ron, and Harry stood up, Harry after squeezing Ginny’s hand a final time in a way that Ginny knew meant _I’ll see you later tonight_ and, after taking their plates to the sink, made their way upstairs to Ron’s room. Ginny wondered if it brought up memories for the three of them, being huddled up in the room beneath the attic, plotting amongst each other. At least this time, she reflected dryly, the others knew what the hell they were up to.

She stood up as well and started to clear the table. Mum waved her wand, and the dishes that Ginny carried to the sink started to clean themselves, clattering in a way that was comforting to Ginny. Her dad stood up, and went to the kettle, turning it on with a wave of his wand and getting out old, slightly chipped mugs. She remembered coming home after the Battle, for the first time since Easter holidays, when they’d had to move to Aunt Muriel’s. It had been so quiet then, disconcertingly so. And now, with her parents pottering about the kitchen and the dishes clattering to themselves, it felt back to. Normal. After everything they’d been through, she didn’t think she’d ever take this noise for granted again.

“If you’re sure you don’t need any help, Molly,” Dad said, once he’d made the tea and set down a steaming mug next to Ginny and handed one to Mum, “I’m going to go sit down. It’s been a long day.” He looked tired, and Ginny looked at him closely, looked at the dark circles under his eyes and his greying hair.

Impulsively, she leaned in and gave her father a hug, holding on to him for a second or two longer than she usually would before letting go. “Night, Dad,” she said.

“Night, Ginny,” he said, and kissed her forehead before he let go of her. He kissed Mum and took his tea, walking out of the kitchen to the living room where, Ginny knew, he would end up dozing in the armchair by the fireplace.

“So,” Mum said, once it was just the two of them in the kitchen. Ginny recognised her mother’s tone, and she braced herself as she carried the final set of dishes to the sink and set them there. She hoisted herself onto the counter, picking her tea up and taking a sip of it as she waited for the inevitable. “You and Harry have gotten very close recently,” Mum finally said, in a gentle tone she only ever reserved for Ginny.

Ginny nodded. There was no point denying. “We have, yeah. I love him,” she admitted.

Mum surprised her with her response. “I know,” she said, and reached out, patting Ginny’s shoulder. “How does he feel?”

“He feels the same,” Ginny said. Normally, she would’ve left it at that. Today was different, though. “Mum…” she said slowly, “Remember what you said, about how you and Dad got married right after the first war?”

Mum’s expression hardened. “I hope you aren’t suggesting that you both are planning to – you’re far too young, Ginny, you’re not even of age yet, and—”

Ginny knew to cut her off before she could get going. “No, Mum. We’re not getting married, god. Not for a while, anyway. That’s not what I meant.”

Mum seemed to relax. “Good,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t approve of him, though,” she added.

Ginny laughed, resting her head against the wall. “I know, Mum. You’ve practically adopted him.”

“He’s a sweet boy,” Mum said with a fond smile. “And I’ve seen how you both are with each other. It reminds me of me and Arthur when we were younger.”

Ginny thought of what her mother had let slip about what she called her and Dad’s ‘night-time strolls’ at Hogwarts during their final years and thought there was more that she had in common with her mother than she realised. Instead of teasing her mother about that, since she definitely couldn’t push it now that she had her mum’s support, she said, “Did it help?”

“Did what help, dear?” Mum asked.

“Did it help, being with Dad during the first war. Things were pretty shit, then, weren’t they?”

“Language,” Mum scolded, but it sounded half-hearted. “Yes, of course it helped. But it was never as bad then as it is now.”

“It’s over now, though,” Ginny said gently.

Mum didn’t say anything for a moment. “Last time, I lost my brothers. And this time, I lost—” her voice broke. Ginny hopped off the counter, going up to her mother and wrapping her arms around her. She didn’t know what to say. She never knew what to say when her mother got emotional or teary. She had always been uncomfortable with tears. She thought that one of her brothers, George or Percy or Bill, would’ve known what to do. Fred, she thought with a pang. He would’ve known what to do.

“I know, Mum,” she finally said. Her own voice was thick. Merlin, they’d all really been crying a lot lately, hadn’t they?

Mum pulled back after a few minutes and wiped her eyes. “To answer your question,” she said, and her voice was clear again, “it did help. It did then, and it will now. Love… it always helps.”

“Bit cheesy, Mum,” Ginny said.

Mum swatted at her with a tea towel, but she was smiling, and Ginny counted that as a win.

*

 


	10. x.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the trials, a conversation with Arthur, and a midnight fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the delay! i've been incredibly busy - uni has ended and i'm graduating in less than two weeks (!!) so i've been out a lot, trying to enjoy my last couple weeks before i have to get back the Real Life. i've also had a massive writer's block, but hopefully that should be better. i'm also sorry for the delay in responding to comments - i will when i have a bit more time, promise! <3
> 
> an additional note: i'm not very comfortable writing explicit scenes, so i've chosen not to do it. i'm sorry if that disappoints anyone, but harry and ginny are consenting and in a healthy relationship here, so feel free to fill in the blanks in your mind. (also, just because i don't write it explicitly doesn't mean it doesn't happen...)
> 
> sorry for the delay, thanks for being so lovely, and please let me know what you think of it!

“Alright, alright,” Kingsley declared, causing the rest of the courtroom, who had been whispering to each other in increasingly loud tones, “that’s enough. Order in the court, please.”

Next to him, Harry heard as Hermione drew in a deep breath.

“After much deliberation,” Kingsley said, and his voice seemed to echo in the crowded room, “the Wizengamot have found Corban Yaxley to be guilty of all charges, and he is sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban, without the possibility of an early release.”

The courtroom broke into applause, but Harry didn’t say anything. He felt almost numb, even though he could feel Hermione squeeze his arm next to him. This was it, then. Yaxley’s was the very last trial.

Kingsley waited as the Hitwizards to take the sneering figure of Yaxley away; if Harry hadn’t known him as well as he did, he didn’t think he would’ve noticed the slight glint of happiness in his eyes.

“Do you think our testimony helped?” Hermione asked, and Harry turned to look at her and Ron.

“I’d bloody well hope so,” Ron said, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

Harry couldn’t help but agree. It would be very, very frustrating, if their testimonies hadn’t been useful. All of these weeks of testimonies had left him feeling permanently exhausted, the sort of tiredness that seeped into his bones. It didn’t help that he and Ron had been at the Ministry nearly every day, meeting with Kingsley and Gawain Robards, occasionally accompanied by Hermione. Gawain was convinced that Ron and Harry needed to justify every single thing they suggested with examples of how it worked against Death Eaters in real life (“I’m going to need several more reasons why you think it’s worth teaching prospecting Aurors about bloody _Expelliarmous_ , Potter”) and, while Harry was sure he had his reasons, it ended up in him being exhausted.

“Well. That’s it, then,” he said, once the Hitwizards had taken Yaxley away. “No more trials.”

“No more trials,” Hermione agreed. Slowly, the three of them got to their feet, making their way out of the courtroom and towards the elevators.

“Have you heard from the Aurors about your parents?” Harry asked Hermione, who shook her head.

“No, I haven’t. But, you know, now that the trials are over…” Hermione fidgeted, playing with her hands nervously.

Harry raised his eyebrows, and then realised what she was dancing around. “You want to go look for them yourself?”

“Not by herself,” Ron put in.

Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I know, mate.”

“Well, I just think… I’d be better at tracking them down than the Aurors,” Hermione said tentatively. “I’m the one that did the memory charm, I left a few hints when they were suggestible, so I think I know where they’d go…” She trailed off, looking quite nervous.

Harry nodded slowly. He thought about it for a moment and then looked at Ron. “You should speak to Gawain.”

Ron looked startled. “I should? Why?”

“Because we’re technically working for him now, aren’t we? You should tell him you want to go to Australia. Make sure he’s okay with it,” Harry said.

A slow look of relief spread onto Ron’s face. “So… you’re fine with it?”

“Course I’m fine with it,” Harry said, nonplussed. “Why wouldn’t I be? No, don’t answer that,” he said, seeing the looks on Ron and Hermione’s faces. He didn’t want to deal with their concern, didn’t want to listen to them telling him he’d been overworking himself, even though it wasn’t exactly inaccurate.

“I’ll speak to Robards,” Ron said, instead of responding to Harry’s question. “Tell him he has to deal with your sorry arse by himself for a bit.”

Harry grinned at that and stepped into the elevator. “Think he’ll manage it?” he asked dryly.

“I think so, yeah,” Ron said, and then added, in an unsettlingly accurate impression of Gawain, “‘you’re not going to get special treatment just because your friends are away, Potter, let’s get to work now.’”

Harry and Hermione laughed, and they followed Ron to the fireplaces once they left the elevator.

“That reminds me,” Ron added, once their laughter had faded, “try not to, you know. Do too much funny business with Gin when we’re away.” He was still smiling, but the look in his eyes was serious.

Harry couldn’t suppress the urge to roll his eyes this time. “Merlin’s sake,” he muttered, reaching out to grab a handful of Floo powder. As he called out _the Burrow_ and stepped into the fireplace, he could hear Hermione say, “ _Ron_ , I said to say it _gently_ —”

*

That evening, after dinner, Mr. Weasley said, “Harry, can I have a word?”

Guiltily, Harry moved his hand off Ginny’s thigh, even though it was hidden under the table, and nodded. “Yeah—course,” he nodded.

From the look on Ginny’s face, he could tell she was trying not to smile. “See you after,” she murmured to him, kissing his cheek before she got up.

Harry stood up from the table and followed Mr. Weasley. He’d thought they’d go to the living room, but, to his surprise, Mr. Weasley led him out of the shop, towards the old shed. Harry had a sudden memory of speaking to Dumbledore here the summer before his sixth year, of Dumbledore saying that OWL results would arrive soon and he would be taking private lessons with him this year.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Weasley asked.

Harry shook his head quickly to try and clear his mind. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry,” he said. And then, without meaning to, he added, “I was just thinking about Dumbledore.”

“About Dumbledore?” Mr. Weasley repeated. Even in the dim light of the shed, Harry could make out him raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah. He, er. He brought me here a couple years ago.” Harry felt a bit stupid, saying it like that.

Mr. Weasley only nodded. He waved his wand, and the shed was lit up with his wandlight.

“So,” Harry said. He really, really did not want to talk about Dumbledore now. “What did you want to talk about, Mr. Weasley?”

“You know, you can call me Arthur,” Mr. Weasley said mildly. “There were a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about. I thought it would be best if we spoke in private.”

Harry slowly nodded.

“The first matter,” Mr. Weasley – Arthur – said, “is about your motorbike.”

“My motorbike?” Harry asked.

“Sirius’s motorbike. Which he left to you,” Arthur said.

Harry remembered crashing into Andromeda’s grounds, remembered the pale, angry face of Voldemort, the way his wand had defended him, how terrified he’d been. “Right,” he said.

“Well, I’ve been repairing it,” Arthur told Harry proudly. “Since that night. Even managed to smuggle it to Muriel’s with me. And it’s nearly finished.”

Harry wasn’t sure why he was telling him all of this. “That’s great,” he finally said.

Arthur seemed to take pity on him. “It is your bike, Harry,” he said, reaching out and patting Harry’s shoulder. It was such a small touch but was so gentle and fatherly that Harry seemed oddly close to tears. “I was wondering what your plans for it were. If you wanted to share them with me, that is.”

“Oh, er – I dunno. You can keep it, Mr. Weasle—Arthur,” Harry said.

“Of course not. It’s yours, Harry. Sirius wanted you to have it,” Arthur said.

“I, er – I don’t know what I would do with a motorbike,” Harry said.

Arthur was quiet for a moment, and then asked, “Did you ever learn how to ride it? Or to drive?”

“No,” Harry said. The Dursleys would have rather died than let Harry touch their pristine white car, and Hogwarts didn’t teach that sort of thing.

“Ah,” Arthur said. “Well, Molly doesn’t approve of motorcycles. She thinks they’re unsafe Muggle contraptions.”

Harry didn’t think Mrs. Weasley was wrong.

“But,” Arthur added, “I can teach you how to ride them. It’s easy, and not much more unsafe than riding a broomstick.”

“Really?” Harry said.

“Of course. It’s your bike, Harry. I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time. And you’ll need a way to get to the Ministry when you don’t want to Apparate or take the Floo,” Arthur reasoned.

“I, er… thank you,” Harry said, quite touched. “That’d be nice.”

“Of course. It’s no problem. Who do you think taught Fred and George to drive the car?” Arthur said, eyes twinkling. This was the first time, Harry thought, that Arthur had mentioned Fred without his face falling immediately afterwards.

“Thank you,” Harry said again.

Arthur waved away Harry’s words. “It’s no problem. Molly also… wanted me to have a word. About Ginny,” he said.

Harry’s palms felt a bit sweaty. He supposed this was overdue. “Right,” he said.

“Well, we are both given to believe that you two are… involved,” Arthur said. He looked as uncomfortable as Harry felt.

“I, uh. Yeah,” Harry said. He took a deep breath, and kept his gaze fixed firmly on his shoes. “I, um. It’s… It’s serious,” he finally said. He didn’t have the words to explain it to Arthur, couldn’t say _she’s the only person who makes everything feel good_ , couldn’t say _she was my last thought before I kind of died a little bit, I’m still not sure if I did or not_ , but he didn’t want a repeat of his fight with Ron, didn’t want Arthur thinking he was messing around his daughter.

“Yes, I know,” Arthur said. Harry risked looking up at him and was surprised to see the small smile on his face. “Molly wanted me to ask about your… intentions. She believes, and I agree, that you both are far too young for marriage.”

Harry felt like his entire face was on fire. “I—marriage?” he spluttered.

“Well, yes. You don’t intend to get married, do you? Ginny isn’t seventeen yet, and you’ve – granted, you’ve had to mature a lot the past year, but I still don’t believe either of you are ready, and—”

“Mr. Weasley, we’re not getting married!” Harry said, louder than he’d meant to say.

“Oh. Oh, good,” Arthur said.

They both didn’t say anything for a moment and then, slowly, Harry looked up at Arthur. He looked relieved, but there a small twinkle in his eyes, and the corner of his lips were twitching. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. It only took a moment, and then Harry was joining him as well.

“Well,” Arthur said, when their laughter had died down a couple of minutes later. He moved to Harry, slinging his arm around his shoulders. “I want you to know that, no matter what happens with you and Ginny, you’re very much a part of this family, alright? That won’t change,” he told him.

Harry felt the relief at Arthur’s words in his chest. “Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” he said.

“Of course. Molly feels the same way. Now, come on, if we go back we can see if there’s any tart left over from dinner,” Arthur said. Keeping his arm around his shoulders, he led Harry back into the house, still chortling as he walked.

*

“So, what did Dad want?” Ginny asked later that night, sitting up from the bed. She leaned down, grabbing Harry’s shirt off the floor and tugging it on.

Harry felt torn; on the one hand, he felt principally opposed to Ginny getting dressed again; on the other, he did love seeing her in his clothes. It made the monster in his chest let out a contented little purr.

“Oh,” he said, when he realised he still hadn’t answered her question. “He said he’d teach me to ride Sirius’s bike. Says it’s mine now.”

Ginny turned to look at him, her eyes glinting as she smirked. “Oh? The Chosen One, riding a motorcycle through London. That’ll make _Witch Weekly_ very happy, won’t it?” she teased, throwing his underwear to him.

Harry caught them in his left hand, letting out a low groan at her words. “Shut up,” he said, but he was grinning at her. “Why are we getting dressed already?” he wanted to know.

Ginny shook her head, but she couldn’t hide the way she was smiling. “Midnight fly,” she said, like it was obvious. “If you’ve still got the stamina for it, Potter.”

Harry chuckled, pulling on his underwear and standing up to grab some clothes for himself. “He also wanted to know if we’re getting married,” he told her, as he pulled his jeans on.

Ginny shook her head, grinning. “Mum asked me about it, too. Got all panicky, said we’re far too young.”

“What’d you say?” Harry asked.

“That it’s not happening for a while,” Ginny said. “And then she made it a point to say that she doesn’t want us to get married, but she does approve of you.”

Harry felt warmth bloom in his chest at that. “Your dad said that I’ll be part of your family, no matter how things work out with us.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Course. You’ve been part of the family for years now. Think Ron would miss you even more than I would if you weren’t.”

Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently for a moment. He didn’t say anything, but he knew Ginny would be able to tell how oddly emotional he was, how much it meant to him that the Weasleys considered him family.

“Come on, then,” Ginny said, and her tone was gentle. “Let’s go. I’m about ready to beat your arse in Quidditch.” She took his hand, tugging him out of the bedroom with her.

“Don’t count on it, Weasley,” Harry said, but he already knew, even as they walked downstairs and to the orchard, that he was about to get his arse handed to him by Ginny, who had gotten even better over the last few weeks than she’d been before. And what was more, he was about to thoroughly enjoy it.

*


	11. xi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione leave for Australia, an impromptu trip to Diagon Alley, and Ginny finally learns (some more of) what happened to Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiii
> 
> so this chapter is shorter than normal, because i have what comes next planned, and i wanted that to be from harry's perspective, so have moved it to the next chapter. hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think, and have a lovely day!

It was a rainy morning, rainy enough that Ginny hadn’t been able to get in a morning fly before breakfast. If it hadn’t been for the midnight fly that she’d coaxed Harry into yesterday, she would’ve been quite grumpy today. As such, Harry was frowning at his toast in a way that Ginny knew had nothing to do with flying and everything to do with the fact that Ron and Hermione were leaving for Australia today.

As such, Hermione had done her homework. Ginny didn’t know why she was surprised.

“It’s a bit easier, international travel, than it is the Muggle way,” Hermione told Dad as she buttered her toast. 

“It seems very complicated, the Muggle way,” Ron put in. “Hermione’s got us sorted out with passed-ports—”

“ _Passports_ , Ron—”

“And apparently the way Muggles travel,” Ron continued, unperturbed, “is in an aeroplane with metal wings, that stays up with electricity.”

“Do they really?” Dad said, looking delighted.

Ginny looked at Hermione for clarification. 

“He’s not wrong about that, actually,” Hermione said, but Ginny didn’t think that the proud way she was looking at Ron was necessary. “Well, not electricity, but… close enough.” 

“And it takes absolute _hours_ , sometimes days,” Ron put in. 

“So how are you going, then, if you’re not taking a plane?” Harry wondered. Ginny glanced at him. All of the talk of day-long travel, and passed ports, and travel that took days, didn’t seem very foreign to him. Ginny was half convinced that Hermione and Harry were pulling her leg about this entire travel thing. It just didn’t seem realistic. 

“Oh, I spoke to Kingsley about that,” Hermione said. She had the kind of manic look on her face that Ginny associated with the way she looked when she wanted to revise and Gryffindor tower were being too loud for her. “We’re going to Portkey, but you can’t Portkey long distances. So it’s six Portkeys, and each is scheduled half an hour after the earlier one. So it’ll be about three hours, give or take, and we’ll get there then.”

“You’ll write, won’t you, dears?” Mum asked, looking with concern both at Ron and Hermione. She disapproved, Ginny knew, of this plan. But she hadn’t made any outright attempts to stop them. Ginny supposed they were both of age, and were going to fetch Hermione’s parents, so it was different from last year, when the three of them had been about to leave school and no one knew why. Then again, Ginny reflected, she wasn’t sure what Hermione’s parents had been doing in Australia in the first place. Hermione and Ron had both been quite vague about the whole thing.

“Of course, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said.

“Why do you need passports, if you’re taking Portkeys?” Harry wanted to know.

“I thought it’d be best to be safe. Just in case…” Hermione’s cheeks went a little pink. “Well, if – when, when we find my parents, they probably won’t want to come back the magical way.”

Ginny wondered, yet again, what had happened with Hermione’s parents. There was a story there, she just knew it. It was getting a bit exhausting, not knowing any of this. She turned to glance at Harry, and raised an eyebrow at him, slightly challengingly. He met her eyes, and then slowly nodded. “Later,” he promised her, very quietly.

Ginny nodded. She would take him up on that.

*

Hermione and Ron left soon after breakfast, and the house seemed oddly quiet without them. Without the two of them, it was just her, Harry, and her parents at home. Bill and Fleur were in Shell Cottage, and George was still staying with them at the moment. Percy was in his flat in London, Charlie was in Romania, and—she supposed that was all her siblings accounted for. She would have to get used to counting five instead of six siblings. And Dad had left for work, so currently, it was just her and her mum at work. And Harry. Harry, Ginny was sure, felt odd about the arrangement; he’d never stayed here without Ron before, and he was effectively staying with his girlfriend and her parents now. She stifled a laugh at the thought.

“Well,” Mum had said, in the tone of forced brightness she only adopted when _very_ upset, “Percy and George will be here this evening, and they’ll be staying for a while. So, if you’re alright staying in Bill and Charlie’s room, Harry –”

Harry gave Ginny a glance – both of them knew that it wouldn’t just be him staying in that room during the night – and then said, “Of course, Mrs. Weasley.”

“—then they can share Percy’s old room,” Mum finished, and went to open the window to let in the owl who’d been pecking at the glass for the past minute. She accepted the letter from the owl, who nipped at her fingers and then flew away. So a letter that didn’t need an immediate reply, then.

“Who is it, Mum?” Ginny asked. She felt Harry’s hand rest on her thigh, under the kitchen table, and she placed her hand on top of his, letting him play with her fingers absentmindedly.

“It’s Andromeda. I invited her over for tea tomorrow evening, she’s said she can come,” Mum said.

Ginny nodded. She assumed her mum, like her, wasn’t too fond of the quiet of the Burrow.

Harry perked up visibly at that. “Teddy’ll be over?” he asked.

Ginny wasn’t sure what it said about her, but she was pretty sure that the fond way Mum looked at Harry was similar to how she was feeling. “Yes, dear,” Mum said.

“We should go out, then,” Ginny decided, giving Harry’s hand a little squeeze. “Buy Teddy a present.” What she didn’t say was that she wanted to get out, had the restless feeling she got when the house was quiet and she was left alone with her thoughts, but she didn’t think a fly would help this. More desperate measures were called for in this case, she thought.

“What a lovely idea,” Mum agreed.

Harry seemed to cheer up at the idea of buying Teddy a present. And Ginny couldn’t blame him, it was impossible to be upset when encountered with Teddy.

“Where would we get him a present?” Harry wondered.

Ginny grinned. “Well, Harry,” she said, getting to her feet and holding her hand out to him. “It’s time to go to Diagon Alley.”

*

Ginny didn’t know what she expected from Diagon Alley. The Leaky Cauldron had looked the same, except for the cheerful smile Tom had sent Harry, but she had thought Diagon Alley would be different. It had only been a month or so since the war ended, so she supposed that wasn’t enough time to rebuild the entire street. Last time she had been here, almost every shop had been boarded up, and the place had been grey and lifeless in a way she associated with Dementors and her second year.

It was completely different now, though. A lot of the shops were still closed up, but crowds bustled around the area, and construction work on the closed fronts were clearly underway.

Harry paused suddenly, and squeezed Ginny’s hand. Ginny looked up; they were standing outside what had been Florean Fortesque’s ice cream parlour.

“They never did find out what happened to him, did they?” he asked her quietly.

She shook her head. “Maybe he escaped,” she said, just as quiet. “Ran away to Spain or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry said. Neither of them sounded very convinced.

“Come on,” Ginny said, after a moment. She held on to his hand, and tugged him over to a little coffee shop which definitely hadn’t existed the last time she was here.

It wasn’t as crowded as the street was, and they managed to find a table near the back, where it was relatively quiet.

“Everyone keeps looking at us,” Harry muttered as he sat down. He brought his hand up, adjusted his messy hair to try and cover his scar in a well-practiced movement.

“Look on the bright side. You’re not Undesirable Number One anymore,” Ginny said cheerfully.

Harry managed a smile at that. He was quiet for a second, and then, “The last time I was here, I robbed Gringotts.”

Ginny’s smile faded. “You mentioned,” she said, carefully. “To get the sword. To destroy the… the _things_.” The Horcruxes. The bits of Voldemort’s soul.

“Well, not exactly,” Harry admitted. He looked sheepish. “We had the sword. We had to get the cup. It was a… a _thing_ ,” he said. “It used to belong to Helga Hufflepuff. Vold—Riddle, Riddle got it,” he corrected himself, and Ginny understood why; saying _Riddle_ would attract less attention than _Voldemort_. “It was in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault. I realised that when…” He straightened up in his seat, took a deep breath, “when we were in Malfoy Manor. The three of us… Dean and Luna were there, too, and Ollivander, and D-Dobby.” His voice was shaky. “And Griphook.”

“Luna was there?” Ginny repeated. “ _Dean_? Wait… how did you even get to Malfoy Manor? Who’s Griphook?”

Harry took another deep breath. “The three of us were camping. After breaking into the Ministry. I… I fucked up, a bit. Led to us getting caught by Snatchers. They brought us to Malfoy Manor.” Very slowly, but in the calm, steady tone that Ginny mentally called his ‘future Auror tone’, Harry started to tell her the story, of how Bellatrix tortured Hermione when she saw they had the Sword, of how Dobby the house-elf had shown up to rescue him and the rest of them, of how Peter Pettigrew’s own hand had ended up killing him, of how they’d escaped to Shell Cottage just in time.

“And then I buried Dobby,” Harry finished. His voice was hoarse, and low.

Ginny’s eyes were burning with tears, and her palms had indentations from where she’d dug her nails tightly as she’d listened to Harry, without interruption. “Merlin,” she breathed.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

Ginny thought about the pale look on Hermione’s face when the topic of the Malfoy’s had been mentioned. It all made sense now. She knew first-hand how awful the Cruciatus was, and her respect for Hermione, which had already been quite high, was at an all-time high now. To lie while being tortured…

She leaned her hand across the table and took his. His fingers were trembling as he held onto her hand, but he didn’t let go.

“Did you testify at the Malfoy trial?” she asked, very quietly.

“I did,” Harry said. If he seemed surprised that she didn’t have any other questions, he didn’t reveal it.

“What did you say?” Ginny asked.

“I said… I said Draco could have identified me, but he didn’t. And that he could have killed Dumbledore sixth year, but he didn’t. And that Narcissa… lied about me being alive. Lied to Riddle’s face, told him I was dead.”

“That’s how… that’s how Riddle thought you were dead? Narcissa lied?” Ginny asked, frowning.

“I… I kind of did die, for a bit. I think. I’m not sure,” Harry said. A faraway expression came onto his face.

Ginny felt even more confused. All confusion aside, though, she couldn’t hear that Harry had maybe _died_ and not have any more questions. “You did?” she demanded. “What the fuck does that mean, you’re not sure?”

“It’s… it’s kind of a long story, too,” Harry said.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. She was starting to think that Harry had a lot of those.

 


	12. xii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another (long-overdue) conversation and an unexpected offer of accommodation; and babies and family make everything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have any excuse for why this is so lat, but life has been incredibly busy and overwhelming and exhausting the past few months and i'm doing the best i can, promise! anyway, one more chapter + an epilogue after this, so we're nearing the end! as always, hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

The next day dawned fresh and grey-skied, the kind of weather that always threatened rain but didn’t quite follow through.

“Good Quidditch conditions,” Ginny mumbled sleepily. She had just woken up and gotten to her feet, heading straight for the window to peer out of it. Harry peered at her, a red-headed blur silhouetted against the morning sunlight.

Harry gave her a small smile, suddenly thinking back to Oliver’s attitude on the morning of Quidditch matches. “You know, you’ll be Quidditch Captain next year,” he told her. He reached out, still half asleep, and took his wand. With a mumbled _Accio_ , his glasses came zooming towards him, and he caught them with his left hand before putting them on. The world came into focus, and he could see Ginny’s beaming face.

“You seem very sure of yourself, Potter,” she said.

“Course. They’d be insane if they don’t do it,” Harry said. Much as he loved the sport, he was absolutely convinced that Ginny was a far better player than he’d ever been.

Ginny didn’t say anything, but she gave him a little smile. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d say she was shy. She stepped back towards him, perching on the edge of the bed and pressing a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek. Harry thought back to the earlier year, to waking up to a silent tent, or going to sleep to the sound of Hermione’s sobs. He still couldn’t believe, sometimes, just how lucky he was.

It seemed almost unfair, that he got to be here, and so many other people weren’t. He thought briefly of Remus and Tonks and felt a now-familiar pang in his chest when he thought of Teddy, and everything that had been left behind, that didn’t remain anymore.

He looked down at Ginny, into her bright eyes, and his own eyes felt oddly hot. “What is it?” Ginny asked. Her smile faded as she looked at him, and Harry recognized the look of concern on her face.

He shook his head. He didn’t know what to say. He could feel a lump in his throat, and he felt scared to speak. He just knew, somehow, that he wouldn’t be able to talk without crying.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. He could feel Ginny’s hand in his messy hair, slowly stroking it, but it seemed to register from somewhere far away.

When he finally opened his mouth, he wanted to say that he was fine, or that he didn’t want to talk about it, or that he didn’t think he’d ever feel as strongly about anyone or anything as he did about Ginny.

What came out, though, was something completely different. And when he spoke, his voice sounded thick and foreign to his own ears.

“I was a Horcrux,” he said.

Ginny’s hand stilled in his hair. He felt a buzzing in his ears, as if someone had cast a _Muffliato_ on him. “What the fuck?” she said.

He didn’t know what he had expected. Shock, definitely. Anger. Betrayal, maybe.

He closed his eyes. It took every single bit of courage he had to open them and look up at her. She mostly looked confused.

“When… when Voldemort killed my parents. He accidentally made me a Horcrux,” he said. It sounded so insignificant, when he said it like that. Two sentences, to describe so very many years of confusion and grief.

“How do you accidentally make a Horcrux?” Ginny said, sounding, if anything, even more confused.

Harry shrugged. He had no fucking idea.

“When you said… when you said he _set out_ to make six Horcruxes, earlier. You meant that…”

Harry nodded. “I was the seventh.”

“And… and are you, still?” Ginny asked.

“Am I still what?”

Ginny gave him a look. “Are you still a Horcrux.”

Harry shook his head. “Remember when I said I kind of died?” he said.

“Course I remember. Not the kind of thing you forget your boyfriend telling you.”

Something in Harry’s heart felt unbelievably light at the sound of Ginny calling him her boyfriend. Even after what he had just admitted.

“Well, me kind of dying… when Voldemort killed me, it kind of… killed the Horcrux. Not me,” Harry said.

Ginny didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she got up, walked to the bedroom door, and turned the key in the lock. She returned to Harry’s bed and sat down, running a hand through her messy hair and taking a few deep breaths.

“You have a lot to explain, Harry. And you’re going to do it now,” she said.

*

Later that afternoon, after lunch, Mrs. Weasley decided to go out to Diagon Alley to pick up a few things she needed for teatime, leaving Ginny and Harry alone at home. They sat down outdoors, by the orchard.

“So you were never possessed by him?” Ginny asked, picking up their conversation from where they’d left it this morning.

“No. I wasn’t. I mean, he tried once, during fifth year, but… no. Not possessed. But it’s how I could see his thoughts. It’s how I knew your dad was… you know.”

Ginny went a bit pale. “Oh,” she said.

“It wasn’t like… it wasn’t like your first year,” Harry said hastily. “I mean, I don’t think he ever, you know—”

“Took control of you,” she said. Her voice seemed oddly empty and, while she was looking at him, Harry knew she was thinking of a time five or six years ago, a diary, and hours of her life she wouldn’t ever remember properly or get back. Without thinking, he leaned over and took her hand.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

Before either of them said anything else, there was a loud _pop!_

Instinctively, Harry grabbed his wand and got to his feet, and he noted (with an absentminded sense of pride) that Ginny had done the same as him.

Heart racing, Harry took a moment to look at the figure who just Apparated into the orchard, the red-headed figure wearing magenta robes and a smirk.

“Oh,” Ginny mumbled behind him, and then she rushed to hug George.

“You can put your wand down,” George told Harry over Ginny’s head. “I’m not going to try and murder you. Pretty sure only someone with a death wish would do that by this point, mate. Although maybe I _should_ try to murder you, seeing as I caught you in a compromising position with my little sister…”

Harry put down his wand with a sheepish smile.

“We’re just sitting down and talking, you nutter,” Ginny said.

“Yes,” agreed George. “Sitting and talking. About your _feelings_ , probably. What could be more compromising than the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived himself, going mad with emotions?”

“Fuck off,” Ginny said, but she was laughing as she pulled back.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?” Harry asked, but he thought he recognised the robes.

“The shop,” George said, with a shrug that was clearly intended to be casual, but Harry could make out the lines in his forehead and by his eyes that hadn’t been there a few months ago. Another overwhelming wave of sadness washed over him, but he forced it down and away, somewhere hidden out of sight. Out of mind.

“How’s the shop doing?” asked Ginny.

“It’s alright. About as well as we could’ve hoped, I think,” George said, with a little shrug.

“Hey,” Harry said suddenly, before either of them could say anything else, “I thought you couldn’t Apparate directly here?” He remembered Dumbledore, and Tonks, having to walk past the boundaries of the Burrow to Apparate.

“Oh, Bill and Dad removed the charms last weekend,” George said, sitting down on the grass. Taking their cues from him, Harry and Ginny sat down as well.

“The war’s over and all that,” Ginny said, moving to rest her head against Harry’s shoulder. She still seemed a bit quieter than usual, but Harry couldn’t blame her, given everything he’d told her.

“The war’s over. Our dear brother’s gone to Australia, doing Merlin knows what,” George said. “And then he and you are about to change the Auror department for good, apparently.”

Harry shrugged. “I’ll consider it a victory if we manage to get rid of some of the tossers in the department, at any rate.” He thought of Proudfoot’s smug face and resisted the urge to shudder.

“A worthwhile victory that would be,” George said. “What’re you both going to do, then?”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Hermione and Gin will be off to Hogwarts,” George said, leaning over to ruffle Ginny’s hair and ignoring her affronted protests, “And you both will have proper grown-up jobs, innit?”

Harry nodded. “We were talking about getting a flat,” he said, remembering the conversation they’d have about it.

George didn’t say anything for a moment. And then, casually, “You wouldn’t need a flat.”

“What do you mean?” Harry said again.

“They couldn’t exactly stick around in the Burrow, could they? Don’t think they’re too keen on staying here while their girlfriends are off at school,” Ginny put in, giving Harry a teasing little smile.

“Well, yeah, course not,” George agreed, “I just meant, you could always stay in the flat above the joke shop. It’s in London, so it’s near the Ministry, and there’s a spare bedroom there, now that, you know.”

None of them said anything for a second. Harry, who hadn’t even considered this as a possibility, was gobsmacked.

“Besides,” George added, in a tone that seemed far too casual, much like his shrug earlier, “it’d be good to have some help with the shop now and then. And some company. You’d have to share a room, mind.”

Harry, who’d spent much of the last seven or eight years sleeping in the same room as Ron in the Gryffindor common room and had gotten long accustomed to his snoring, didn’t see this as a problem. “That’d be great,” he said.

“Good. You can move in once Ron’s back from Australia,” George said. A brief look of relief crossed his face, before it was replacing with a smirk he directed towards Harry. “Besides, then you won’t have to worry about my parents catching you when they try to protect the virtue of our baby Ginevra.”

Ginny lunged at George, tackling him to the grass, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the both of them. He tilted his head up, enjoyed the rays of sun on his face. The clouds had cleared up; and it looked like the rest of the day would be sunny and bright.

*

Andromeda and Teddy arrived at around four. At the sound of a knock on the door, Harry got to his feet to answer it. He grinned when he opened the door and saw them. Teddy was awake, waving his arms around happily from his position in Andromeda’s arms. “Hi,” he said happily.

“Hello, Harry,” Andromeda said, giving him a smile that, by Andromeda’s polite standards, was exceedingly friendly.

Harry stepped aside so they could come in, giving Teddy a bright little smile. Today, the little tufts of hair he had were an indigo-blue. He led them into the kitchen, and happily accepted little Teddy when Andromeda set him in his arms before she sat down at the table and let Mrs. Weasley pour her a cup of tea.

“How’s your work at the Ministry going, Harry?” she asked him, once she had greeted Ginny and George as well.

“Good, thanks,” Harry said, carefully sitting down. “I’m going back tomorrow.” The truth was, he wasn’t looking forward to going back to meet Robards without Ron.

Andromeda nodded politely. “I see,” she said. “And you’ll be joining the program in September, yes?”

“Yeah. The first of September,” Harry nodded.

“Of course, you’ll be all moved out by then,” George said casually.

There was a silence, the sort of silence that seemed deathly. Harry looked up at Mrs. Weasley. “You’re moving out?” she said slowly. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

“Er – well,” Harry said. He didn’t know what to say, had had no idea that Mrs Weasley would take it like this. He was almost reminded of her reaction last year to the news that he, Ron, and Hermione would be leaving after Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

As if sensing the tension, Teddy let out a tiny little sound, not a cry but more a whimper. Harry set his finger down in Teddy’s little hand carefully, smiling at now-familiar feeling of his tight fist forming around his finger.

“Nothing’s decided yet,” he finally said, rather lamely.

“They might stay with me, Mum,” George said, his tone casual. He looked at Mrs Weasley, right in her eyes. “They’ll want to be nearer to London, to make travelling to the Ministry easier. And we’ll probably be here for dinner every weekend, anyway.”

A few more seconds passed. “Well. I suppose that would make your jobs easier,” Mrs Weasley finally said, turning to give Harry a little smile. “And you will come back often, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Harry said.

“Good,” Mrs Weasley said, and then, with a little sniffle. “Merlin, I’m being silly, but… two more sons are leaving. It just feels so…” she trailed off, dabbing at her eyes. Harry, too taken aback at Mrs Weasley calling him her _son_ , a feeling he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to, didn’t say anything.

“I know, Molly. I felt the same when Nymphadora married Remus. It’s always difficult when they grow up,” Andromeda said, reaching her hand out and resting it on top of Mrs Weasley’s. “But we’re all family. That won’t change.”

Harry felt a sudden warmth in his chest and looked down at Teddy. He resolved to always make him feel as welcome wherever he lived as he had always felt at the Weasley’s. After all, that was, he mused, what family did.

*


	13. xiii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi: there is a timeskip between the last chapter and this one. we're now towards the end of july, and also towards the end of the fic! there'll be one chapter after this (or maybe one chapter and an epilogue), and then i plan to write lots of oneshots (such as 'further each hour') in this 'verse. 
> 
> also! read 'further each hour' if you would like to know how i imagine ron and hermione fared in australia.
> 
> as always, let me know what you think!

The first thing Ginny registered when she opened her eyes was that it was an exceedingly warm morning, even by July’s standards. The sun pierced at her eyes and warmed her bare skin; she’d clearly kicked off the covers off her in the night.

The second thing she registered was that, as of today, there was exactly one week left until Harry’s birthday. And she had no idea what to get him.

In theory, this wasn’t a big deal, not really. She had six brothers – five. Five brothers. (Merlin, it had been  _ months  _ and she still wasn’t used to that.) In theory, she should have been used to gifting by now. She couldn’t count the number of books she’d gotten Percy, the amount of Chudley Cannons merchandise she’d gotten Ron – and that, she reasoned, was a testament to what a good sister she was, since she was a Holyhead Harpies supporter all the way. She’d almost made Charlie cry for his fifteenth birthday, when she presented him with the stuffed dragon she’d knit all by herself (well, with her mum’s help, but it still counted).

And yet, she had no idea what to gift Harry.

As she thought about it, there was a tiny  _ pop!  _ sound and a letter appeared on the table by the bed, sealed and addressed to Ginny in Hermione’s neat handwriting. Ginny turned to look at Harry who was fast asleep next to her. His forehead was rumpled in his sleep, and his hair was even messier than usual. Luckily, Hermione’s letter hadn’t woken him up. She leaned over and grabbed the letter, carefully getting to her feet. She got dressed quickly, pulling on the t-shirt and pyjama bottoms that she’d discarded yesterday, and tiptoed out of the room.

She was incredibly grateful that Hermione had invented the spell to get letters across quickly – or, if she was being very accurate since she knew Hermione would’ve corrected her if she was here, she was glad Hermione had modified the Portkey charm to make it easier to transport letters across long distances. Australia was far enough away that it would’ve taken a week or two to get owls across, and now it was just a matter of hours. Harry had filled her in on why Hermione’s parents were in Australia, and Hermione, in her letters to Ginny, had given her all of the details. She opened the letter on her way downstairs. Today’s letter was a short one.

_ Dear Ginny, _

_ We think we’re getting close. I’ve met enough Wendells and Monicas that the names have stopped sounding real, but Ron says he has a good feeling about this one. We’re going tomorrow morning. As it’s the last house on our list, I certainly hope so. With any luck, we’ll be back in time for Harry’s birthday – which is good, since I have his present picked out already. _

_ I’ll let you know as soon as we know when we can leave. Hopefully soon. _

_ Hermione _

Ginny put the letter away in the pocket of her pyjamas, letting out a small sigh. Even Hermione, who was busy with a task that, as per her last few letters, had left her frustrated and exhausted, had picked out a present for Harry. Of course she had.

“Morning, Mum,” she mumbled when she saw her mother in the kitchen, reading the latest  _ Witch Weekly  _ which was propped up against her cup of coffee.

“Morning, Ginny dear,” Mum said, looking up at her and giving her a smile. “You’re up early. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. It’s just…” she wondered if this was too trivial to share with her mother. But she had her mum’s complete attention, everyone else in the house was asleep, and she didn’t know who else she could ask. “I don’t know what to get Harry for his birthday,” she finally admitted.

Mum gave her a fond smile. “He’ll love anything you get him, dear,” she told her.

Ginny supposed she was right. “Yeah, I know, but… I feel like it needs to be special,” she said.

To her mum’s credit, she seemed to give the matter serious consideration. “I think… honestly, love. I think he’ll just be happy, no matter what. Remember what Ron wrote us in their first year? I don’t think he’s still very used to presents. Not after the way that terrible aunt and uncle treated him.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “God, I hate them. Do you know they made him sleep in the  _ cupboard _ ?” She said. She felt the now-familiar white-hot burst of righteous anger in her chest, the same anger she felt whenever she thought about what they had put Harry through, those awful Muggles. She was glad that they weren’t any longer the only family Harry could boast of. 

No, wait.  _ Family _ . Of course. That was it. 

“Mum,” she said suddenly, sitting up straighter. “I’m going to go. I have to go. If Harry or Dad wonder, tell them I’ve gone to meet Luna, okay?” 

“Luna?” Mum repeated, widening her eyes. “Dear, but— are you sure it’s safe, running off like that?” 

“Mum. I’ve faced Death Eaters, I’ll handle going to meet a friend, okay?” Ginny said, but kissed her mother’s cheek fondly on her way upstairs. She had to rush, needed to get dressed and go out before Harry woke up. She had work to do, after all. 

*

“So,” Harry said when Ginny walked back in that evening, “Where’d you go?”

She levelled him with a look. He was sitting down on the sofa in the living room, paging through  _ Which Broomstick? _

“Hello, Harry,” she said, giving him the sweetest smile she could. “My boyfriend, who I love. It’s so nice to see you. Yes, I had a lovely time, thank you so much for asking.”

Harry shook his head at her, but she could tell he was holding back laughter. 

“Where’s Mum?” she asked, dusting the Floo powder off her jeans and going up to him.

“She went to visit Neville’s grandmum,” Harry said. He accompanied the words with a shrug that seemed to say  _ I don’t really know, either _ , so Ginny didn’t ask any follow ups. 

Ginny sat down next to him, peering at the magazine.

“A Firebolt?” she asked.

Harry shrugged. “Need a broomstick, don’t I? Need to keep up with you,” he said.

“What, the bike isn’t enough now?” Ginny teased, and rested her hand on her chest, affecting a swoon. “Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy who Lived himself, an absolute marvel on the road and in the skies. However will we cope?”

“It’ll be very hard, but I’m sure you’ll manage,” Harry said dryly. “What were you doing with Luna, anyway? How is she?”

“She’s alright,” Ginny said, smiling. “Same as always, I think. Told me to send you and Bill my love. And old Xeno’s back at the house, but it’s not permanent, I don’t think.”

“It’s not?” Harry said.

“Nah. Their house was ruined by the Death Eaters, apparently, when-- okay, that had something to do with you, didn’t it?” Ginny said, suddenly noticing the sheepish look on Harry’s face. “Merlin, when did you get the time to do 

“It’s a long story. Has to do with the Deathly Hallows,” Harry said.

Ginny considered. “Fine, but you have to tell me later, yeah?” 

“Course,” Harry said. “So. I got another riding lesson from your dad today,” he reported and gave Ginny a grin. “Before he left for work. Reckon I could try and get my licence after my birthday.” At Ginny’s blank look, he clarified: “My Muggle licence, I mean.”

“Ah. Yeah, that’s good,” Ginny said. “So you don’t get in trouble with the Muggle pleasemen?”

“That, and I can’t imagine the look on Hermione’s face if she caught me on Sirius’s bike without a licence.”

“You should give her more credit,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “She’s ridden a dragon now, you know. Hermione Granger is a changed woman. Did she send you a letter, by the way?” 

“Oh, yeah. Ron sent me one, too,” Harry reported with a grin. “I reckon they’ll be here tomorrow or the day after.”

“In time for your birthday,” Ginny put in.

Harry looked genuinely surprised. “Oh… that’s right. I’d, er. I’d sort of forgotten about that,” he said.

Ginny looked at him incredulously. She couldn’t imagine ever forgetting about her birthday. “What?”

“Well, there’s been a lot going on, hasn’t there?” Harry pointed out. “With Robards and the Auror training planning, and everything else. Besides, I…” he trailed off. Ginny knew better than to prompt him, and waited, raising an eyebrow as she looked at him. “I never thought I’d make it to my eighteenth birthday,” he finally admitted. 

Ginny felt a weight lodge in her throat, settle down comfortably in her chest and prevent her from moving. She looked up at Harry, whose arm had gone still next to her. Her first instinct was to say  _ don’t be ridiculous _ . Harry was the Boy Who Lived. But then she thought of Fred in the Great Hall, spread out as if asleep. She thought of what Harry had told her, about the Horcrux he had inadvertently been. She thought of Harry saying he had nearly died, or exactly died, and even he wasn’t sure of the exact details. 

“Well,” she finally said, and cleared her throat. “You made it this far, Potter. May as well last another week to see how your birthday turns out, eh?”

If Harry’s chuckle sounded watery, neither of them mentioned a thing.

*

It ended up being two days after when Ron and Hermione showed up. In the early hours of the morning, Ginny, who was fast asleep in Harry’s bed, heard a sudden, banging sound coming from downstairs. She started awake, grabbing her wand and standing up before she was even fully alert. Next to her, on the opposite side of the bed, Harry did the same thing.

“Stay behind me,” he mumbled, pushing his glasses down. He had what Ginny secretly liked to call his Auror look: no-nonsense and focused completely on the task at hand. Ginny followed him downstairs. Her mum and dad seemed to have slept through the noise, and Ginny mentally rebuked them. They had been through a  _ war _ , for Merlin’s sake. Surely a bit more vigilance.

“It came from the kitchen,” she told Harry, and followed him into the kitchen. There, in front of the dining table, holding what seemed to be a can of some kind, stood Ron. Before they could react, another bang sounded in the house -- Ginny rubbed her aching eardrum -- and Hermione appeared, holding an old bit of paper. 

She lowered her wand, but Harry steadied it, pointing at them.

“There are seven Horcruxes and you’re the seventh. It’s really us,” Ron said. Harry lowered his wand and grinned,  going up to Ron and giving him a brief hug before he moved on to Hermione.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s awfully early, isn’t it?” Hermione said, moving to hug Ginny once she had let go of Ron. “I planned to be here around half past eight, but I must have calculated wrong…” That, more than anything, told Ginny how tired Hermione was. She couldn’t remember the last time she miscalculated something. That simply wasn’t something Hermione did.

“It is a bit early. But you’re only--” Ginny checked the clock, “-- three hours off,” she said. “Come on, then. Let’s go outside, we can watch the sunrise.”

Ron glanced at Harry. “Might wanna put a shirt on before we do that, mate,” he sniggered. It was only then that Ginny noticed that Harry was only wearing his pyjama bottoms. Oh, right. They hadn’t gotten around to getting fully dressed yesterday night, had they?

“Fuck off,” Harry muttered, cheeks going pink, “ _ Accio _ .” A pile of clothes came zooming towards him, and Ginny leaned over and stole the jumper at the top of it before he could.

“Let’s go,” she said cheerfully.

*

“So they’ll be coming here next week,” Hermione said. They were all settled down outside and - much to Ginny’s surprise - Hermione had pulled out a blanket and a pack of biscuits from a tiny beaded bag she had pulled out from her pocket. “Or the week after. They’ll let me know. Luckily, there’s a phone number at the Ministry of Magic. So they’ll phone and leave a message with Kingsley’s office once they know when they’re coming.”

“And-- how did it go?” Harry asked tentatively.

“About as good as we could’ve hoped for, I think,” Ron told him.

“They were surprisingly calm,” Hermione said. “Well, they completely panicked when I first undid the charm. It’s a lot to deal with, of course. But once they processed it, they said they didn’t know when they’d be able to leave. They have to close their clinic, and everything.”

“Did you know dentists are tooth doctors? Isn’t that barmy?” Ron said, shaking his head. 

“We can’t all have read  _ Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Everyday Health Charms _ ,” Harry said, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

“And,” Hermione continued, ignoring Ron and Harry completely, “they said that once they come back to Oxfordshire. And they want me to spend the rest of the summer with them. They said it’s important to establish trust again…”

“So you’re leaving?” Harry asked, frowning.

“No. I mean, I’ll see you at the Ministry everyday, and I’ll come back to the Burrow on some weekends. And you can visit me there. It’s a lovely house. But… I don’t know if they’ll go back at all. They say that they will, but… They’re… They’re very happy. In Australia. They’ve been happy the past year, without a daughter…” Her voice hitched in her throat, and Ron wrapped his arm around her. Harry leaned over, tentative, and patted her shoulder. 

“I’m being silly, I know,” Hermione hiccuped. “But… I just thought maybe everything would go back to normal once I found them. They’d come home and… things would be like they were.”

“Well,” Ginny couldn’t resist saying, “if things were like they were last year, we would have Voldemort roaming around the country, wouldn’t we?” 

“Y-yes, I suppose you’re right,” Hermione said. “I’m being silly…”

Ginny didn’t think she was being silly at all. She had felt the same as Hermione, when she had first returned to the Burrow after the war. Like everything would be the same now. But nothing was the same. She didn’t think it would ever be the same.

“It’s just… they’re my  _ family _ ,” Hermione finally said, looking down at her hands.

“It’s not just them that’s your family,” Harry said quietly. He looked up and met Ginny’s eyes. Slowly, they exchanged a smile.

Ginny slowly reached over and took Harry’s free hand. Nothing would ever be the same. But sometimes, maybe things being different wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i plan to write one shots in this series once i finish it, so if there's anything specific you'd like to see, comment it or hit me up on tumblr and i'll give it a go!


	14. xiv.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well... we have finally come to the end! i would apologise for the ridiculously self-indulgent fluff this chapter is, but honestly, our boy's been through more than enough and i just wanted him to have a good birthday <3
> 
> thank you all for being on this journey with me, and i hope you enjoyed! stay tuned for more oneshots in this verse and maybe... a sequel... which i may or may not have already planned...
> 
> love you all for reading, and hope you like it! come talk to me on tumblr (lazyweekendmornings) :)

On the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Harry was awoken by a thump to the head.

“Mmph,” he mumbled, already reaching for his wand as he sat up. He reached out and grabbed his glasses, shoving them onto his face. The grinning figure of Ron Weasley came into focus, perched on the end of his bed.

“Happy birthday,” he said, far too cheerful for the early hour, and threw a lumpy parcel at Harry, hitting him in the chest.

“Mmph,” Harry said again, grumpier this time, and put his wand away. He opened the messily giftwrapped parcel and was greeted with a bright yellow t-shirt. _My best friend went to Bondi Beach and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!_ It read, in neon green, along with a cartoon of a surfer on the beach.

Harry started to laugh. “Thanks, mate. This is great,” he said appreciatively.

“Oh, it gets better. Tap it with your wand,” Ron advised.

Harry grabbed his wand again and tapped it. The surfer walked off the little cartoon picture, and was replaced by an orange-headed figure and a bushy-haired one, waving at Harry.

“This is far better than those Potters Stinks magic, innit?” Ron said cheerfully.

“Just a bit, yeah,” Harry said, grinning. “Thanks, Ron. This is perfect.”

“I wanted to modify the t-shirt to say _I defeated Voldemort and all I got was this lousy t-shirt_ , but Hermione reckoned it was far too dark,” Ron said.

“Don’t know where she got that idea,” said Harry dryly. He tugged off his pyjama top and pulled on the t-shirt. It was slightly tight on him, but it was fast becoming his favourite item of clothing.

“Bondi Beach is great, mate,” Ron said. “We should go sometime. Maybe we can tell Robards we have to go, to investigate an Auror threat or something.”

Ron had returned to work with him the earlier day, after having two or three doses of a potion Hermione guaranteed would help with the jet lag, and he was already fast winning Robards over. Robards, despite his grumpy exterior, was always the first to laugh at a joke Ron cracked or to agree with him when he suggested taking a break to get some tea before getting back to work.

“I bet he’d agree to that,” Harry said.

Before Ron could respond, the door opened and Ginny walked in. She was wearing an old t-shirt of Harry’s – Harry wondered how she would react if he told her that the shirt had once belonged to Dudley Dursley – and some pyjama shorts, the ends of which were uneven, as if she had cut them herself. Harry had no doubt that she had.

“Hey, Harry. Heard some git’s turning eighteen, or something,” she said cheerfully. “Ron, Mum wants help with the birthday breakfast,” she added.

Ron eyed her suspiciously. “Really? Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about what I walked in on last year—”

“Oh, is that how you want to play it? Because Hermione stayed in my room yesterday, and she had _plenty_ to tell me about the room you both stayed in in Australia,” Ginny said sweetly. “And all of the activities that may or may not have taken place there, in the bed you both may or may not have shared. Girls talk, you know. So. Before you can be even more of a massive hypocrite, you should probably get downstairs and help Mum.”

Ron blinked a couple of times. His ears had gone red. Harry couldn’t say he blamed him. Ron and Hermione alone in a bed was something he’d rather not think about.

Without another word, Ron got to his feet and left the room. Harry waved his wand, and the door closed, locking into place with a little _click_.

“So, is that why you stayed with Hermione in your room yesterday? To get blackmail material?” Harry asked, lips quirking into an amused smile.

“I’ll never admit anything,” Ginny said, and moved onto the bed. She straddled his waist, and he leaned back against the pillows. “Excellent t-shirt, by the way,” she said, leaning over and poking the smiling cartoon figure of Ron.

“Oh, thanks. Birthday present,” Harry said.

“Mm. Yes. Speaking of which… you know, I was thinking. I never gave you a proper present last year, did I?” Ginny said. Her eyes had a glint to them, and Harry didn’t stop himself from leaning over and resting his hand on her waist.

He thought back to last year, to the glorious few moments he’d spent with Ginny on the morning of his seventeenth birthday, exactly a year ago. He would never admit how much he’d thought back to that morning during the following year, in musty tents and on the run in the cold. “I think it was a great present. Best I’ve ever gotten,” he told her.

Ginny smirked down at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking about. She probably did, knowing her. “Yeah? Well, what I meant was… I never _finished_ giving you that present, did I?”

Harry matched her smirk with one of his own. “Mm. Suppose you didn’t.”

“Got a lot to make up for this year, don’t I?” Ginny murmured. She leaned down, pressed an unbelievably gentle kiss to his stubbled jaw. “Remember what you said? About not thinking you’d make it to an eighteenth birthday?” she asked quietly, pressing a trail of kisses down his neck.

“Yeah,” Harry responded, although he was finding it hard to think coherent thoughts right now.

“Did you mean it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said again.

Ginny didn’t say anything for a moment, and when she pulled back to look at him, her eyes were suspiciously shiny. She didn’t look away, though, and her gaze was steady as she looked at him. She moved her hands to the base of his t-shirt, tugged it off him and tossed it aside carelessly before she rested her hand on the scar on his chest. Lightning bolt shaped, just like the one on his forehead.

“I’m so fucking glad you made it,” she said.

He rested his hand on top of hers. His throat felt a bit thick. “Getting a bit sentimental, Weasley?” he said, moving his free hand to brush her hair off her face.

“Tosser. You’re meant to say _I’m glad you made it too and you’re the best girlfriend_ ,” she said. She chuckled, but it sounded wet.

“I’m glad you made it too,” he repeated obediently. “And you’re the best girlfriend.” As he looked up at her, into her bright eyes, he meant every moment of it.

“Look at you, listening to instructions. Snape would be shocked. Turns out the Potter boy _does_ know how to listen, after all,” she said, in an impression of Snape’s drawling tones that was almost eerily accurate.

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Merlin. I know he ended up being on our side in the end, but you really shouldn’t talk about him when we’re about to get naked.”

“Awfully cocky, aren’t you, Potter?” Ginny teased. “Who said anything about being naked?” But then she was pulling off her – Harry’s – shirt, and his mouth was suddenly too dry to even consider a witty response.

*

Immediately after breakfast, Ron and Hermione cornered him.

“I know you haven’t opened your presents yet, Harry,” said Hermione, “but we’d really like to show you ours, first.”

“You already got me a present, though,” Harry said, looking down at the t-shirt he was wearing. Hermione, too, had already gifted him a present over breakfast: a book, fittingly enough, about the Quidditch league in Australia. He was already looking forward to reading it.

“Well, yes. But this one isn’t from us. Not technically, anyway,” Ron said, with a grin.

“What’re you on about, mate?” Harry said, looking from Ron’s manic grin to Hermione’s bright smile in confusion.

“Harry. Just trust us on this one, okay? You’ll be back in time for dinner,” Hermione promised.

“I—okay,” Harry said slowly.

“Good lad,” said Ron, sounding relieved.

They tugged him outside. “Remember. You have to trust us,” Hermione told him, and then took his arm. Ron took his other arm, and they both held on tight. “Okay. Now close your eyes,” said Hermione. Harry did.

The next thing he knew, his body was being squeezed in on both ends. With a small _pop_ , the three of them Disapparated from the Burrow. 

The first thing that hit him was the sound. He had gotten used to the relative quiet of the Burrow and the chaos of the Ministry, but what he first heard was the sound of cars, of traffic. 

He opened his eyes when he heard the unmistakable sound of a car horn. He was standing, sandwiched between Ron and Hermione, on the top of some steps, in front of a familiar front door. He turned around and looked at the busy London street, and then turned back to look at the sight of the front door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

“What…” he trailed off and then looked at Ron, who just smirked.

“Hang on, mate,” Ron advised and then leaned over and knocked on the door.

It opened within seconds, and Andromeda Tonks smiled at them. “Happy birthday, Harry,” she said, and stepped aside.

Slowly, Harry stepped in. He had been inside the house within the last year, but it looked unrecognisable.

In his mind, Grimmauld Place had transformed since they left, into a menacing place infiltrated by Yaxley and the lot. He hadn’t planned on stepping foot in it ever again. 

“I was wondering what to get you,” Andromeda said conversationally, “and I was speaking to Kreacher about it. And he thought he had a good idea.” 

She led the way down the hall, and Harry followed her, but froze suddenly, looking at a spot on the wall. Gone was the portrait of Sirius’s mum. In its place hung a small photograph Harry recognised from Sirius’s bedroom. Sirius, Remus, Peter Pettigrew smiled at him from the picture, and, right in the centre, they were joined by Harry’s dad. They looked young and carefree, and _happy_.

“How did you… how did you get the Sticking charm off it? I couldn’t remove it from Sirius’s bedroom,” he said, voice a little thick.

Andromeda laughed. “I couldn’t, of course. Kreacher, however, is a different story. Elf magic works differently. And, if you were worried about Walburga--”

“Somehow, I don’t think he is,” muttered Ron.

“--then we have stored her in the attic. I don’t think Kreacher is as fond of her as he once was,” Andromeda continued.

“This is… this is great,” said Harry quietly. “Thank you. You’ve restored the house, and--” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Instead, he looked at the picture, at James’s young face.

“Well, this house was always meant to represent family,” Andromeda said. “Over seven generations of Blacks have lived here. The only difference is that now that family is ours,” she said, and gave Harry a smile. 

“The elf heads are gone, too,” said Ron. “Which is a big difference, I think. Certainly makes for an improvement, don’t you reckon?”

Harry nodded in agreement.

“I know you don’t want to live here right now,” Hermione said, looking around. “And I can’t really blame you, Harry, but… now you’ll always have a place to come back to. A place that’s yours.”

*

Dinner that evening was an incredible affair. Mrs Weasley had made all of his favourites, complete with treacle tart, and a cake that was bigger than his head. Unlike last year’s Snitch-shaped cake, this year’s was simple: chocolate, iced with a ‘happy birthday Harry’, but it reminded Harry off the cake Hagrid had brought him on his eleventh birthday, and he loved it.

They had the dinner outdoors; Ginny had lavishly decorated the trees and the orchard for the occasion, and Harry couldn’t honestly remember the last time all of the people he cared about were all together like this. Hagrid, Luna, Bill and Fleur, Andromeda and Teddy, George, and Neville and his grandmum were all present, and dinner was loud and cheerful, as they all spoke over each other and helped themselves to thirds of everything.

To his surprise, towards the end of dinner, none other than McGonagall showed up. “Happy birthday, Potter,” she told him, and then, sounding oddly choked up, “I’m very happy to be here.”

Without thinking about it – or perhaps it had been the Firewhiskey he, Ron, Ginny and George had indulged in – Harry leaned in and gave her a hug. “Thanks for coming, Professor,” he told her.

McGonagall seemed to hesitate, and then said, “I believe it was on your mother’s eighteenth birthday that she and your father went to Hogsmeade together for the first time. It was not a Hogsmeade weekend, mind you. I caught them sneaking back into the castle after being out late together.” With a small smile twitching at the corner of her lips, she added, “I should have given them detention, of course. But… let us say that it slipped my mind.”

Harry stored this titbit away in the back of his mind, in a special place where he stored all of the details he knew about his parents. “I… really?” he said, hungry to know more.

“Really. Within a year and a half, they were married,” McGonagall told him. “They would have been very proud of you, Harry. As am I,” she said quietly.

Harry blinked rapidly, and nodded. “Thanks, Professor,” he said again.

Ginny came up to him, slipping her hand into his and giving it a squeeze. “Hi, Professor,” she said cheerfully. “Thanks for coming. There’s still cake, if you’d like some.”

“I would, actually,” said McGonagall with a smile, and went to join Mr and Mrs. Weasley.

“Come on. We’ve got to show you your present,” Ginny said with a smile.

“We?” repeated Harry, but all Ginny did was give him a mysterious smile and tug him back into the house.

To Harry’s surprise, Luna was perched on the couch, even though he could have sworn he had just seen her deep in conversation with George. “Happy birthday, Harry,” she said.

“You already said that,” Harry pointed out.

“Yes, but Daddy says it’s good luck to wish someone the same number of times as the age they’re turning. This is my thirteenth happy birthday,” Luna said. She was wearing a bright blue dress, which sparkled in the light, along with a matching hat that was adorned with what seemed to be a brooch shaped like an enormous cauliflower. Harry decided not to ask about it.

“I’m sure his fiftieth birthday will be loads of fun, then,” Ginny said dryly, exchanging an amused look with Luna.

“Would you like to see your present, Harry?” Luna said. She waved her wand, and an object came zooming down the stairs, settling itself in front of Harry. A gift-wrapped present.

Harry glanced at Ginny, but all he received from her was an enigmatic smile. He unwrapped the present slowly, and took it out of the box so he could get a proper look at it.

It was a painting. Harry recognised it immediately as one that Luna had made, because of its similarity to the one on the ceiling of her room. It was relatively small, about the size of a roll of parchment, but he looked at it for a long time, looked into the painted faces of himself, and Ginny, and Ron, and Hermione, and Luna and Neville, and all of the Weasleys, and, in the corner – he noted with a little jolt – his parents, and Sirius, and Remus and Tonks, holding baby Teddy. A thin golden chain was painted across the bottom of the picture, a single word, again and again. _Family_.

“This was Ginny’s idea,” Luna told Harry cheerfully. “I hope it’s alright.” She stood up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But I think you both’ll want a romantic moment alone, won’t you? I’ll go wait outside, you can thank me later.”

“She’s incredible, isn’t she?” Ginny said, watching her admiringly.

Harry leaned over and tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her and leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against her hips. Even to his own ears, his words sounded thick. Raw.

“Well, yes. I knew that,” Ginny said, as if it was obvious. “I love you too. Obviously.”

Harry smiled at that, and kept his arms held tightly around her. He thought about last year, at Bill’s wedding, when he had imagined Ginny marrying someone else and had hated the thought so much, from the very bottom of his heart. Everything was different now. He got to hold her and be with her. Someday, he might find the words to tell her how much she meant to him, how amazing this present was, how he never wanted to let go of her.

There would be time, though. Years and years of time. For now, he had her in his arms, it was his birthday, and they would get through everything else together.

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> reblog this fic or talk to me on tumblr [here](http://lazyweekendmornings.tumblr.com)! kudos/bookmarks/reviews make my day, i'm a tired college student and could use the validation ♡


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